Me and Mr Wolf
by CurbItKirby
Summary: AU In which Scott wasn't Peter's first Beta. Peter/OFC, pre-season one, M for sex, violence, swearing.
1. The Bite

Marcy Tucker was in no rush to get back to her campus. After studying a grand total of six hours, she supposed she had earned the right to a leisure stroll. Besides, she wasn't exactly looking forward to spending another night with only instant noodles and her Botany text for company.

Was there anything more exciting than learning about how Jan Bapista Van Helmot first started experiments that would eventually lead to the discovery of photosynthesis? God she hoped so. Did she have a social life? Don't be silly, of course not. Did it bother her? Not at all. She wanted to go to college to plant roots(pun totally intended), to get settled in one place and make a nice, boring life for herself. She could do without the partying and mindless boozing; she had lived that life. She had no interest in repeating past mistakes.

The dull night in would soon turn out to be straight up horrifying, thus ruining her plans for Ramen and late night cable television.

With a book bag she was certain had to weigh at least twenty pounds slung over one dainty shoulder, she scowled. Marcy made a mental note to weigh it next time she went to the grocery store. That kind of weight couldn't be good for her back.

"Should've just left it in the library," she muttered to herself. With a grunt, she dropped it to the ground. Although small in stature, Marcy had always liked to think she was at least kind of in shape. Especially for someone who spent days on end in and out of green houses and could only afford to live off Ramen Noodles and Hot Pockets. Could she run a mile? No. Could she run from one end of campus to the other in under five minutes? Yes. Marcy may not have been made for heavy lifting, but she was sure that by the end of the semester she'd be ready to run a marathon if her alarm kept failing her.

A frown settled on her lips. She jumped as the campus' street lights flipped on. Her dark eyes darted suspiciously around her surroundings. Finding nothing out of the ordinary - a well-kept but lonely campus and the vague sounds of a party going on in the distance - she opened her bag. Thankfully, the extra light was right above her, making for an aid rather than a hindrance. Pushing aside a box of tampons(mother nature had a cruel sense of humor and had given Marcy her monthly gift, regardless of her total lack of any kind of sex life, every twenty eight days like clockwork since she hit the age of twelve), the young woman dug around the bag for some sustenance. Finding only a half eaten Poptart, she rolled her eyes, grabbed it and stood.

She would just have to wait until she got back to her dorm for some decent food.

Marcy had just lifted the knapsack off the ground when she heard it. A quiet growl. For a moment she assumed it was her stomach. When it got louder she supposed it was one of the campus' strays. No sweat. Don't bother it, it won't bother you, she told herself. The petite brunette squared her shoulders and slowly pulled the bag over a shoulder. Don't show fear, don't bother it, it won't-

Another growl. Closer this time. Stronger. A rustle in the bushes a few feet away set the girl on edge. Carefully, Marcy began to back up. Then it stepped out into the light.

A scream both rose and choked in Marcy's throat. That was no stray dog. Her lips parted. That was- that was- what was that? A bear? Were there bears in this part of California? Whatever it was, it was coming closer, and she had no intention of sticking around to find out.

Foolishly, she broke into a run. So did the animal. The young woman decided to cut through the court yard. It was deserted, with most of the students partying it up off campus. The creature seemed to get a better footing on the grass than it had on the cement. Another fierce roar cut the air and Marcy couldn't strangle the scream as claws dug into her back.

"Motherfucker!" Her hand wrapped around the strap of her bag, which had split from the contact of the nails now pawing at her back. The sound of shredding fabric filled the air and tears pricked the girl's eyes as claws sunk into pale, vulnerable flesh. Pain trickled down her back like liquid heat, burning and stinging as the creature pressed its weight down. After only managing a squeak, she screamed, "Get off of me!"

No one heard her.

A paw- was it a paw? She couldn't be sure, her vision was getting fuzzy, rolled her onto her back. Dirt ground itself into her fresh wounds as the beast panted above her. Marcy's eyes widened. That was no fucking bear. She couldn't say what it was and she couldn't tear her eyes from its massive teeth as it began to sniff her out. Drool dripped from its jaws; she cringed as it soaked through what little was left of her blouse. Its nose pressed against the material, pushing it up until the pale skin of her stomach was exposed. It inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of blood and fear.

Then it jammed its head between her legs. Yelping, Marcy shoved it away, senses returning to her quickly. Shock and pain were easy to compartmentalize, but being sexually assaulted by a bear- dog- thing, was a completely different story.

It growled at her and buried its fangs in the soft flesh of her thigh. Marcy's eyes widened as pain washed over her in a flood of panicked emotion. It hit hard and fast, almost knocking her out as the animal moved to lap at the mark with a rough tongue. It nuzzled her thigh and whimpered softly, too focused on the blood to notice her hand move toward her bag.

A howl bellowed from its throat as she forced the corner of a rather thick science textbook into its neck. Marcy brought the book down again and again on its head, neck and shoulders until it backed off. It only gave her an inch, but she was willing to risk it for a mile. Kicking the animal in the chest, the young woman took off. Her bag swung behind her, and the searing pain in her thigh was almost blinding, but she had managed to throw the beast off its game, if only for a moment.

That was all she needed to get to the campus doors. Slamming her blood covered fists against the glass window, Marcy began shouting for anyone who would listen. "Please! Someone! Stray dog! Stray dog!"

A few seconds later a tired looking young woman opened the door. Her green eyes widened at the sight of Marcy, or rather the state she was in. "What-"

"Move!" Shoving the girl back, Marcy slammed the door shut just in time. A startled yelp slipped from her lips when the thick metal lurched as something big collided with it. The redhead quickly threw her weight against it, earning a growl from the creature. She did it once, twice, three times before the animal backed off and she was able to shut the door completely. Her gaze flickered over to Marcy, wide and frightened before she turned to look back out on to the campus. It was deserted. When she looked back, the brunette was slowly sinking to the floor, where a pool of blood had puddled at their feet.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" The redhead caught her before she could reach it. "What is that thing?"

Marcy sighed and rubbed her fluttering eyes. The stench of her own blood, mixed with soil and something horribly feral is enough to make her gag. Bile rose even higher in her throat when she realized that it was coming from her own skin.

"I have no idea," she answered. The tone in her voice was disturbingly numb as was her gaze. Her blue eyes rose to the stranger's green ones. Marcy carefully took the young woman's hand that was wrapped around her waist and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you."

"No problem. Come on-" The pair jumped as the creature outside howled and rammed the door. "Come on," the woman repeated, a twinge of fear in her voice. She held Marcy's hand tightly and gave it a gentle tug. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Yeah." Marcy cast one last frightened glance at the door before following her. She barely noticed the other student all but carry her to a dorm. Once she was seated carefully on the bed, the redhead went off to fetch some warm water and some bandages. Marcy stayed rooted to the spot, staring helplessly at an Offspring poster that hung on the wall. She had been attacked. By a wild animal. For no reason. Maybe it really was a bear. Were bears known for attacking people? Maybe that's what it was. Marcy blinked heavily. Her mind was starting to drift, she was conscious enough to realize that. A really mean, kind of puny bear.

"Here."

A warm cloth was pressed to her soiled cheek, and Marcy looked up in surprise. The girl is only a few inches away from her, a frown knitting her brows together. "Thanks, um…"

"Lisa."

"Lisa," she echoed. Taking the damp rag from her, she wiped her face with crude intent. All she really managed to do was spread the mess around.

"Uh, are you okay? I mean…" The redhead swallowed nervously. She took the cloth from the brunette's hand and took over the task of cleaning her face. "That's an awful lotta blood."

"I… I think so." Marcy shifted and sucked in a gasp through her teeth. Her hands clutched her leg and she let out a pant. Lisa pushed Marcy's hands away and gently pulled the torn jeans back. The wound was but a gaping hole on her upper thigh. As if sensing its visibility, the wound began to gush, staining Lisa's favorite pink blanket with blood.

"Oh my god."

"It fucking bit me." A few tears slicked down the brunette's rapidly paling face as pain finally began to register. "It held me down and bit me. What kind of bear does that?!"


	2. Lisa

Marcy woke up in an unfamiliar room. Her blue eyes flickered over the messy floor and pink blanket before she slowly eased herself up. The bed sheets were stained with blood, but she felt no aches or pains from the night before. With a frown, she wondered if perhaps she had some kind of premenstrual induced waking nightmare. She prodded her thigh. Not even a tingle of pain, and no mark of any kind. Hm. Strange.

"Hi."

Marcy's sleep filled gaze lifted to find a redhead clutching two coffee cups in the door way. "Uh, hi." She pointed to the mattress, her nose wrinkling in awkward discomfort. "This your bed?"

"Yep." The woman nodded, her features suggesting that she was feeling almost as awkward as Marcy looked.

"Did…did I have my first experimentation in lesbianism last night?" The brunette asked curiously. She resisted the urge to smirk when the woman's face colored a pretty shade of red that matched her hair perfectly. "Because it would be a real shame if I didn't remember it."

"What makes you think-"

"Woke up in a stranger's room with no pants. Sounds like a one night stand to me," she cut in with a frown.

"You don't remember anything from last night?"

Marcy shrugged vaguely and stood. She cringed with embarrassment at the sight of the bloodied sheets. Clearing her throat, she spoke without looking back at the woman. "I'll ugh, hook you up with some new sheets, I promise, because, well, this is just unacceptable."

"It's fine, really." Lisa waved her off with a grim smirk. "Not your fault."

The brunette licked her lips then cleared her throat. A touch uncomfortably, she asked, "Um, not that I'm not grateful for…whatever we did, but do you think I could borrow some pants? Or really anything that'll cover me while I make a run to my apartment?"

"Why don't you just give me your key and you can get cleaned up here?"

"That's really unnecessary-"

"Really, it's fine. Can't have you running around like, well, you look like you've escaped the Hewitt house," the redhead told her with a gesture that swept from the brunette's head to toes. Most of which was still covered dirt and blood.

Marcy faltered a moment. Running a hand through her hair, she nodded. No doubt Lisa was right, but she really just wanted to get home. "Maybe I'll just call a cab. I didn't happen to have a bag with me when-"

Lisa held up a finger and disappeared from sight. The young woman in the bed sighed, but resisted the urge to bury herself in the sheets. Inhaling deeply, Marcy fought back the tears that prickled at her eyes. She wasn't going to cry, not in some stranger's bed and not over some dog on steroids_. Lots of people __get__ chased by dogs on this campus_, she reasoned_. I bet they don't go to pieces over it_. Her hands tangled in her thick hair and she gave it a rough tug. The few shallow breaths escaped her throat were followed by a whimper before she could stop them. Clear as day, she could hear Lisa's footsteps, quick and light just outside the door. Sharply, she snapped her shoulders back. With rough hands she rubbed away the tears before Lisa could see them. Marcy took a few deep breaths and adjusted the blankets around her legs.

"Um, it's a little worse for wear, but…" Lisa appeared in the doorway holding what was left of Marcy's backpack. It was passed over to the woman on the bed with a sympathetic frown. One of the straps had been torn and a seam had been split, but thankfully all of her belongings were still inside.

Marcy pursed her lips. With somewhat shaky hands, she shuffled through the textbooks and scattered papers a few seconds before pulling out her cellphone. She scanned her list of contacts before coming to a familiar name she hadn't used in a while.

Lisa smirked at the tiny emblem on her phone. "The Crude?"

"Yeah, my dad's kind of…Let's just say he's a fan," the brunette replied vaguely as she raised the cell to her ear.

"Oh, cool, can't go wrong with classic rock, right?" Lisa smirked and disappeared to get more coffee.

"Yeah." Marcy sniffed as a warm, familiar voice came over the line.

"Miss Marcy, so good to hear from you again!"

The brunette blushed faintly at the formality from the elderly gentleman. "Hi, Clayton."

"What can I do for you today, miss?"

"I need a ride back to my apartment-"

"Busy night?" He asked, his voice teasing and soft over the line. Familiar. Comforting. Just what she needed at the moment.

Marcy grinned despite herself. She had missed her driver, but since she had vowed to keep a low profile, she hadn't much need for him. "Not exactly."

"Well, just give me the address and I'll be on my way, dear."

"It's uh-"

"Shall I just GPS your phone?"

Marcy blinked. "You can do that?"

"Of course. You're father likes to make sure you're in good hands."

The brunette smiled and shook her head, "Okay, Clay, sounds good."

"Very well, Miss. I'll be seeing you in ten to fifteen minutes," Clayton told her.

"Alright. Bye."

"Goodbye."

The phone clicked over the line and the young woman dropped her cell back in what was left of her bag. She wrapped herself in the soiled, bloodied blankets and moved out to where Lisa was waiting, the kitchen.

Offering her a cup of coffee, the redhead smiled. "You're not really going to buy me new sheets are you?"

"Yep." Marcy took the mug that had printed with fluffy kittens on all sides with a barely contained dubious look and sipped at it idly, enjoying the bitter taste.

Lisa shifted her weight awkwardly a moment before asking, "So, what do you think attacked you last night?"

The brunette stilled. Lisa didn't seem to notice as she carried on, "I mean, that thing was huge, and strays around here don't really get that big…do you really think it could've been a bear?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah, but I mean, it's not like were exactly in a densely wooded area, well, not this part of town anyway-"

The brunette held up a hand, her gaze flattening harshly at the redhead. "Look, I don't know what it is, and I don't I care. I just want to forget the whole thing."

Lisa's brows shot up. "Aren't you going to report it?"

"No," Marcy said bluntly, "I'm not."

"But-"

The brunette cut her off with a shake of her head. "I'm sure whatever it was has moved along."

Lisa frowned, her pretty features flushed pink as she shook her head, "What if it gets someone else?"

"Not my problem," the brunette replied, handing her back the kitten cup as a horn honked outside. "Thanks again. I'll be in touch."

"But-"

Before Lisa could finish her sentence, Marcy was gone, along with her sheets.

When the brunette finally made it home (after many personal questions from her driver and former caretaker, Vernon Clayton), it was safe to say she was exhausted. Closing the door to her loft tightly behind her, Marcy let the sheets fall to the floor. With a frown, she gave them a fierce kick.

Huffing, the slender woman shambled over to the washroom. She cast a quick glance in the mirror, frowned at how terrible she looked (it seemed like blood and dirt were caked into her every pore) and stripped down as quickly as possible.

Her gaze immediately went to the top of her left thigh. The skin there was smooth and pale, without even a hint of what had happened the previous night…except the smudge of dried blood that trailed all the way down to her knee. She prodded it with harsh fingers, but there wasn't any discomfort. Not even a twinge of pain.

_Strange_. Marcy shrugged off her worries and hopped into the shower. It took her little under an hour to get completely clean. By the time she was ready to get out her skin was a bright pink, flushed from the heat of the water and how hard she had scrubbed at it.

When she got out, she didn't notice the window was open. She passed by it without a second thought. Towelling her shoulder length brown hair dry, the young woman sighed to herself as she entered her bedroom. Plucking her cell from the bedside table, she winced at the flashing numbers. Apparently she had missed a few calls. With a heavy sigh, Marcy all but fell onto her bed, not bothering with any modesty in her own home. A few quick clicks of the screen confirmed that both her siblings had called, as well as the library.

Her nose wrinkled slightly at the latter. With a few more clicks, she checked her messages, skipping to the unfamiliar number.

"Hello? I'm looking for Marcella Tucker? I believe she's the little dark haired girl that was just at the West Beacon Hills Library?" An elderly woman's voice floated across the line, bright and warm in a way that made Marcy slightly uncomfortable. It was too grandmotherly for her to be listening to nude. "She left her wallet here last night. I don't suppose that would be you, would it, dear? I'm going to keep it right here for you, okay?"

With a frown, Marcy deleted the message. So much for her day of mental recovery. She rolled off of her bed and got dressed as quickly as possible before checking the other messages. Her sister informed her that her nephew had gained another tooth, while their younger brother excitedly reminded her that summer vacation started in a few days(not that he was in school, but that his girlfriend would be out).

With a smirk on her lips, Marcy left the loft.

She didn't notice her window complete its journey up and open as she slipped out the front door.


	3. Alpha and Beta

Peter glanced around the bedroom with an unimpressed frown. The room was a mess; the floor scattered with clothes, the desk cluttered and to top it all off, there was a wet towel on the bed. He picked it up. Wrinkling his nose in annoyance, he set it on to the computer chair to dry. This was just unacceptable.

In a few long strides, the man left the room. He needed information and that wasn't going to be found in the girl's underwear drawers. Well, surely some questions could be answered by taking a glance in it, but more pressing matters needed to be addressed.

Like her name. He plucked one of the letters that been discarded on her kitchen counter casually before taking a seat at the island. Most of it was junk mail, but he finally accomplished his goal; he had a name.

"Marcella J. Tucker," Peter read. He frowned at the envelope, but didn't bother opening it. That could arouse suspicion…besides, he couldn't smell any money in it, so really, what was the point?

He wandered a touch aimlessly around her home. It was rather large, with pristine white carpets and an array of dark red and black furniture and crème colored walls. Peter helped himself to a soda from the fridge. He shook it slightly, walked back to the middle of the living room and cracked it open. A burst of sugary mist fell to the carpet. The werewolf smirked triumphantly as he sat down on a leather ottoman closest to her table. It was a barely noticeable stain, one she would surely over look, but he would know it was there. It was the perfect crime.

He hiked up the leg of his pants as he pulled open one of the drawers. There were a few address books, some horticulture magazines (Peter rolled his eyes at those, just his luck that his first Beta would be a nerd) and a notepad. He opened it and scoffed. Nothing but crude doodles, and poorly drawn ones at that.

Taking a sip of his soda, the man propped his feet up on the table. The apartment was nice, if not a little bland for his taste. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly one o'clock. His nurse would be expecting him back at thehome soon. He really hoped this girl, this _Marcella_, would hurry up so he could give his little speech and they could be on with it.

Meanwhile, Marcy was thanking the librarian profusely, and trying to back out of the place as quickly as she could without being rude. It was not going well for her. While the lady was pleasant enough, she was rather chatty. Usually, the brunette would tolerate her antics with a polite smile and some attentive banter. But at the moment, all she felt was annoyance. It came on strong, a startlingly hot rage coursing through her veins. Her features tightened with surprise.

"-said to her," the librarian paused. "Is everything all right, dear?"

Marcy met her gaze with a weak smile. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling too well."

The lady reached over and put her hand on the brunette forehead. The same irritated spike anger rose under Marcy's skin at the maternal gesture, and the woman tutted. "You do have a bit of a temperature. You should go home and rest."

"Will do." Slowly, Marcy slunk out of the library, her wallet tucked safely in her pocket.

The young woman winced as the bright sunlight hit her eyes. Everything seemed so much sharper now…like her life had been switched into high definition without her consent. She blamed it on emotional trauma.

Slowly, she made her way back across the crowded courtyard. The same one she had been attacked in the previous night and the familiar cobblestone walls of the dorms, the warm breeze and the faint sounds of partying neighborhood frats had her teeth on edge.

Marcy swallowed and tried her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. Summer would be here soon, and she would have her apartment all to herself. It would be a nice break. With all the stress, she could really use one.

It only took her a few minutes to get back to her apartment. It was, unsurprisingly, exactly as she had left it. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her wallet on the small night stand that stood in the hallway, next to the bowl for her keys and the small notepad next to her home phone. She rubbed her aching eyes.

Something was off in her apartment. With a frown, her eyes peeked open. As mentioned, everything _looked_ the same. She inhaled deeply. Something was definitely wrong…it smelled weird. Like charcoal or burnt wood, prickled with the sickeningly familiar scent of copper.

With steady feet but an unsteady heartbeat, Marcy slowly trekked toward her room. Her blue eyes widened at the sight of a man standing in the middle of the room. His right side was badly burned in a horrifying mess of pink webbing, but the most unnerving thing about him was his smile.

"Hello." He lifted his hand in greeting, slathered in something she knew to be her own blood, and continued to grin like a cat circling the canary as he sipped at a soda.

It sent a shiver down her spine but Marcy was rooted to the spot. Her heart began to hammer painfully in her chest. She continued to stare at him as he held up a book.

She frowned at it as he continued to speak in a docile tone. "You wouldn't think _A Census of American Plants_ would make such an effective weapon." He frowned and dropped it on the bed. "Or be quite so heavy."

The man strolled over to her, a look of predatory satisfaction in his eyes as he swept over her form. Her hastily thrown on clothes did little for her shape; her jeans slightly baggy, her shirt stretching awkwardly over her full breasts. With a smirk, he let his fingers brush the hem of the black material.

Marcy finally managed to snap back to reality. She slapped his hand away as he brushed along the top of her thigh and she moved to run. Before she could take so much as a step, his hand grasped her throat. A startled yelp escaped Marcy as he spun her around, slamming her face into the wall as he blanketed his larger body over hers. The woman grunted as he tore the fabric away from her leg, his claws cutting through the denim like a hot knife through butter. Marcy snapped her hips back against his with a frustrated cry.

The man snickered with a shake his head. Cooing in her ear, he let his touch wander over the creamy skin of her thigh. "Don't be so touchy. I'm just making sure it healed properly."

His hand went back to where she had been bitten. His fingertips prodded it carefully, a look of consideration on his burned features as he took in the pale skin. With a hum of satisfaction, Peter let her go.

"Who the-"

"Now, now, Miss Tucker, language."

The young woman gawked at him. "What?"

"That is your name isn't it?" He leaned back slightly, but not out of her personal space as he continued to move around her room. "Marcella Tucker? Or am I mistaken?"

"You went through my stuff?!" She shrieked indignantly. Her eyes, blue and dark, flashed an unnaturally bright yellow as she screamed at him. "Who the fuck are you?! How did you know-"

He grinned, his lips taking on a painful looking twist at the sight. An ache formed in his stomach as he pressed closer to her. His first Beta. He was so proud of himself. Leaning down, he brushed his brow against hers fondly. "You should be thanking me."

"I should be phoning the police or having a panic attack," Marcy corrected with a scowl.

"So why haven't you?"

The brunette visibly faltered. Her mouth opened and closed in shock. That… was a frustratingly good question. With a thick swallow she shook her head, "What does it-"

"Maybe," The man's smile continued to grow as his hands touched her knees. Slowly, he dragged them up her legs, delighting in the ill-suppressed shudder and arousal that coursed through her when he did. Peter could almost taste it on her skin as he brushed his lips against her cheek, speaking in a low, seductive manner. "It's because deep down you know who I am."

She blinked before she composed herself. Marcy could feel her lower lip beginning to quiver and tears stinging at her eyes as those wandering hands met her hips. She was almost thankful when they lingered there. In a forced show of strength, she snapped, "And who would that be?"

"Your Alpha," he told her simply. His nose brushed hers. His tone sickeningly sweet, he took one of her hands. "But you can call me Peter."

"Or psycho." The young woman nodded firmly as he pressed his nose along the radial artery that ran the inside of her wrist. She blinked, but couldn't take her eyes off him. "I think I'm gonna go with psycho."

Peter flashed his eyes at her; a bright, violent red that ripped a gasp from her throat.

"Remember me now?"

Marcy shook her head as she tried her best to press herself into the wall. "What are you?!"

"I told you, I'm your Alpha."

"What does that _mean?"_

His grin widened, the skin on his burned cheek stretching and pulling in a way that made her grimace. Carefully, he stroked her cheek with a clawed hand. Her skin was delicate and unmarred, so unlike his own. It still had the softness of youth, with no wrinkle or blemish to be seen. Perfect.

Her heart continued to hammer in her chest as one of his razor sharp nails dragged down her cheek, leaving a thin cut in its wake. Marcy was almost too scared to even feel it. She was only vaguely away of the faint heat of blood, but when she raised a hand, she found that there was none. She stood there for a few moments, staring at her bare fingertips, looking for any trace of blood. She looked up at the man in confusion.

Peter's smile widened. "Have a seat, Marcella."


	4. The Point

"A werewolf." Marcy repeated, walking out of her bedroom and into the foyer. She watched him as he took a sip of his soda before she daintily sat on to the couch across from him. Peter was seated on the loveseat, looking very comfortable despite her sarcasm. With a frown she crossed her legs, which were now covered to mid-thigh in a pair of loose fitting shorts. "As in full moon, Lon Chaney, sharp teeth and apparently a whole lot of hair?"

Peter nodded, his eyes darting down to where he could see a large tattoo that graced her thigh (the one opposite to the one he had sunk his teeth into the night prior), before raising his gaze to her face. "That's right."

"So you're what chased me through the courtyard last night?" The young brunette repeated stoically. Predictably, she was having a bit of trouble believing that. Werewolves. What next, mummies and the Loch Ness monster?

"Again, yes," The man replied. He rolled his eyes at the sound of her pounding heart, a constant thumping that was beginning to wear on his nerves. "I'm starting to feel that repetition is going to play a pivotal role in this relationship."

"Hey," Her eyes flashed at him, that same bright yellow as before. With a sneer, she snapped at him, "Excuse me if I'm a little skeptical about the whole _you're turning into a werewolf_ thing. It's kind of a lot to take in."

Peter nodded understandingly. In truth, he was rather pleased she hadn't immediately screamed for help upon his reveal. Perhaps it had to do with pheromones or perhaps she was already subconsciously accepting her role as a beta in his pack or maybe, just maybe, she was just as demented as he was, but whatever it was he was determined to use it to his advantage. His blue eyes strayed by down to her anxiously crossing legs. They were very nice legs.

A smirk twitched at his lips, tugging at the scarred his burned mouth. He would be lying if he said the girl's aesthetics didn't help him make his decision. Marcy was an attractive woman of perhaps twenty five, with a petite frame and a comely face. For his first beta, he was rather proud of himself.

"So, if you bit me does that mean we're like…" The young woman shrugged awkwardly, her index fingers flicking back and forth between them. "You know."

Raising his brows, he repeated mockingly, "_You know_…? I know _what_, exactly?"

"We're not like…" The brunette stumbled for the proper words a moment before bluntly asking, "I don't have to call you daddy, do I?"

"Not public." Peter told her with a twisted smile. "If you're asking me if we're family, than the answer is yes."

He leaned forward over the table as Marcy's gaze shifted to suspicion. The man brushed a strand of her dark hair back from her cheek and carefully cupped her chin with a clawed hand. "You're a member of my pack now. That makes us family…" He trailed his thumb over her bottom lip, the nail scratching the outline of it gently. Peter smirked as a shudder coursed down her spine. "And it's only natural family care for each other."

"Yeah…" Marcy pulled back, quick to stand and move away from him. Defensively, she held herself. "I don't know what kind of incestuous family you come from there, Mr. Wolf, but I would appreciate a straight answer."

"We're not related by blood." Peter rolled his eyes. "But we do have a unique bond."

"Is it a _profound_ bond?"

Not understanding the reference, he nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you could call it that. The fact of the matter is that, quite frankly, you're mine now; my beta."

She held a hand up with a distasteful grimace. "Okay…can you make it sound less like a sex slave ring you're ushering me into, because-"

"Marcella." Peter stood gracefully, a disarming smile on his lips. He sauntered over to her with a sway of his hips that both amused and disturbed Marcy, but she kept quiet as he leaned against the wall next to her. Placidly, he took her hand, "I have complete respect for your personal boundaries. I just want you to reach your full potential."

"You sound like my high school guidance counsellor…before he whipped his dick out, that is." Marcy arched a brow and tried to pull her hand away.

Peter tightened his grip until the younger woman winced. He relented, running his thumb over the back of her hand as he spoke. "Marcy. Focus." When she sighed, but looked up at him, he went on with a faint smile. "You'll be faster, stronger, better than you've ever been."

She blinked at him, completely unimpressed. "No offense, Pete, but I'm studying to be a freaking biologist with a minor in botany. The plants won't care how fast or strong I am."

"I think you're missing the point."

"I think you're missing the point. I'm not interested." Marcy went to move away from him, but he slid into her way. "Move."

Peter pressed his hips into hers, enjoying the excited flutter of her heart as he peered down at her. With a tilt of his head, he framed her own with an arm as he gestured to his scars. "Is it the burns? I'm on the mend you know."

"It's not the burns, it's the psyche. I know when someone's trying to sell me something, Peter." Her eyes flashed unknowingly, a bright yellow that sent a thrill down Hale's spine. She went on, ignoring the way he bore his weight against her hips, threatening but with her dry spell, not entirely unwelcome. Especially now that she knew he wasn't going to _take_ anything from her. Not if he wanted her on his team so badly. "When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is."

The man said nothing, taking in her scent. It was already different from the night before. No longer that fragile human smell, her blood had shifted to take on a trace of her Alpha. Grinning, he let a quiet growl slip. "You're changing in ways you don't even realize, Tucker." He tilted his head again. "And when you do, you'll need me."

With a hint of uncertainly, Marcy asked, "Changing how?"

"I'll be back tonight." Peter kicked away from the wall. "We'll see if you need me then."

"Wait, you can't just leave!" Marcy skidded in front of him, giving his chest a light shove. "What's gonna happen to me? I'm not gonna like wolf out and tear somebody to pieces am I?"

Peter shrugged. "I thought you didn't want me selling it?"

"I want an honest opinion! Not to be left in the dark about all this shit!" She jabbed him in the chest with a stern finger as she glared, "You got me into this, mister. Now either cut the crap or take it back!"

The man blinked in surprise. With a touch of ridicule, he repeated, "Take it back?"

"The bite, make it, like,void or invalid or some shit. I mean, there has to be some kind of antidote, right?"

The look in her wide blue eyes was desperate, frightened and made Peter's stomach churn with disgust. With a sneer, he batted her hand away. "Why would anyone ever want to take it back? This is a gift. You should be thanking me."

"Thanking-" Marcy huffed out a laugh as she shook her head, "I am not cut out for werewolf-ing, Peter. I couldn't even dissect the frog in high school! I can't be expected to eat small woodland creatures and go to Paris at the drop of a hat, okay?!"

"But you're so much better now." He grinned again; the burned skin of his cheek stretching and twisting in a way that made the woman wince. "Humans are so flawed and weak…with a pack you could take on an army, don't you see that?" Peter's hands grasped her arms and pulled her closer. "I could teach you to be invulnerable."

Marcy sneered at him. "To everything except a match, right?"

The slap was hard enough to knock her to the floor, but she was up before she could hit it. She shoved him hard in the chest, but she may as well have been trying to move stone. Peter grabbed her by the back of the head and slammed her into the floor. As she tried to snap at him, he chuckled, pressing a knee into her back.

"You're already becoming feral. How cute." The man cooed, enjoying her growls and snarls as she struggled under his hold. He grabbed her left wrist and pinned it next to her head. "Look at that. My little kitten has claws."

Marcy gasped at the sight of the long yellowish talons that were protruding from her fingertips. She went completely still, realizing she could hear every pump of blood from Peter's heart and a sharp prod against her tongue. She traced it around her front canines and found them elongated- fangs. She had _fangs_.

Peter slipped his knee off, to straddle her waist. Frantic, she spun to face him. His eyes were glowing a fierce red, but his expression was lax, almost affectionate. He rested his forehead against hers and laced their fingers together. Marcy looked down at them, noting how his nails seemed longer than hers, sharper. It was unreal. She could _smell_ him for Christ's sake, and not his cologne. He smelt of charred flesh. And dirt. Something completely male she didn't know how to respond to. She felt her chest tighten and tried to fight the tears that were forming. She was a monster.

"It's alright." Peter murmured. He gave her hand a squeeze and nuzzled against her brow as he fought the urge to grin. "You're one of us now."


	5. Hoodlums

After dealing with her minor panic attack, Peter left. He made a vow to come back in a few hours when she'd calmed down and they would discuss what this meant. For her, for him, for their _pack_, like that was supposed to mean something to her. But she had appreciated it when he didn't mock her tears or turn her away when she threw her arms around him, desperate for some kind of promise of normality. Some kind of sign that she wasn't a freak. She didn't receive one, but with Peter, at least she wouldn't be a freak on her own.

Sighing, Marcy gathered up Lisa's sheets and the clothes she had worn the night before, and threw them in the wash. She didn't plan on keeping them, she'd have burned them if the fire regulations in her building allowed it. After seeing Peter's scars and knowing that she most certainly did _not_ want the local police department CSI-ing her house if anyone came across the bloody mess of fabric, she thought it might be in her best interest to wash them before tossing them down the garbage shoot.

After firmly locking her door, Marcy stripped down to her underwear and crawled into bed. With sunlight streaming through the open windows, she could still see them under her thick blanket. When she flexed her fingers experimentally, they lightly dug into her palm.

Her _claws_. Marcy blinked. She had _claws_. And fangs…her head spun as she remembered the way that the strange man's eyes glowed and how he'd pinned her to the floor with such ease. The brunette whimpered and rolled over to face the wall. She pushed her brow against the cool surface as warm tears flowed down her cheeks. She didn't want to be a monster.

The young woman sobbed as she recalled the hot rage that filled her when Peter slapped her.

Marcy was no doormat. She had never let a man walk all over her- physically or emotionally since she was sixteen years old. But the anger dissipated quickly and filled her with a much more puzzling emotion…guilt. She felt bad for taunting him, for using such a painful thing to gouge at. The scars were much like the man, intriguing and blunt, but that didn't give her the right to mock them.

Absently, she trailed her fingers over the right side of her own face. They continued down her neck and Marcy sighed as she rubbed her throat. The air under the blanket had become humid and stale, so the woman kicked them off. With a huff, she wiped her eyes. A few more tears fell before she sat up. She had clearly lost her mind. Maybe she was depressed or stressed out or something? Was she failing a class? Squinting in the bright light, the brunette frowned. She didn't think she was.

Slowly, Marcy laid back down. A nap would fix everything.

A nap did not, in fact, fix everything. When she woke, Marcy was, once again, not alone her bedroom. A male silhouette stood at her dresser, and the faint sound of shuffling could be heard. Blue eyes still on the man's back, she reached over and turned on the light.

"Oh, good." Peter turned to face her with a grin, "You're up."

Marcy frowned as she looked from his face to his hands. "Is…is that my underwear?"

He spun the pink thong around his index finger with a provocative smirk. "Very nice. I'd love to see you in them. Even more so, out of them."

"You know, if you wanted to nail me, you should've gone the dinner and a movie route." She ran a hand over her eyes and flopped back on the bed as she continued, "Instead of the attack her in the middle of the night and rifle through her panties drawer. It's just not sexy, Pete."

The sound of his footsteps seemed as though they were in surround sound as he moved toward her bed. He untangled the comforter from her legs and made a noise of approval. His eyes swept over her bare breasts, surprised by the thin stainless steel barbells that pierced through her nipples. Although they were a surprise, the Alpha didn't comment on them. Peter unsheathed a claw and dragged it over the large patch of inked skin on her thigh.

"I thought only hoodlums got tattoos."

In a sarcastic drawl, she asked him, "Who says I'm not a hoodlum?"

"Hm." Peter took in her splayed out dark hair and thought back to the large blue eyes that had looked up at him with fright only a few hours before. Truth was she looked more like a Sunday school teacher than a werewolf. At least in the prim and proper clothes that she seemed so fond of. She could certainly break a few hearts in her goody girl way, but a hoodlum? He smirked, "I bet. Now. Put some clothes on, it's time to go."

"Where?"

"Ever hear of a wild life sanctuary, just outside Beacon Hills?"

"Can't say that I have." She raised a hand.

Peter took it and eased her from the bed. He gave her a light swat on the behind to get her moving before he spoke. "Wear something disposable… like those rags you were wearing last night."

She opened her closet. Tossing him a frown over her shoulder at him, Marcy entered it, much to his surprise. With a puzzled blink, he followed. His brows shot up as he looked around. What he had suspected to be a closet had been a whole room, wall to wall with clothes and shoes. It was every teenage girl's wet dream and for a moment he was stunned.

"I was studying last night."

"How can you afford this?" Peter asked, clearly annoyed that something about her had slipped through the cracks. Nothing he could find on her suggested Marcy had any type of money to her name. In fact there was very little to be found about Marcy Tucker at all, albeit from a few papers on plants and the medical benefits of marijuana that he found on the internet.

"I'm thrifty," Marcy mocked, pulling an old dress off its hanger. "Where're we going again?"

"Beacon Hills."

She rolled her eyes, "_Where_ in Beacon Hills?"

The man moved behind her, plucked the dress from her hands and put it back. "I was thinking something a little less…" His voice trailed off as he wound an arm around her waist. Peter fanned his fingers along her bare stomach. Marcy allowed this, enjoying the feel of his touch and the brush of the leather on her back from his jacket. The intimate proximity was oddly comfortable. He rested his chin on her naked shoulder and let out a hum. "If only you had more of a selection."

The brunette tried not to be distracted by the odd sensation of his chin. Half smooth and warm, albeit with a hint of stubble, while the other tight, puckered and creased with scarring. It was unnerving, but not unpleasant. With a frown, she asked, "Are you working some kind of werewolf mojo on me?"

"Pheromones can be a very powerful thing." He gave her shoulder a peck and pulled away. "As time goes on, I'll teach you how to use them to our advantage."

"I'm taking it they're also why I'm not utterly repulsed by you."

Peter flashed her a smirk with a hint of teeth. "No need to be so hostile." He moved over to a drawer and sighed as he pulled it open. Riffling through yet another panty drawer, he asked, "Why do you have so many clothes?"

"My mom introduced me to Barbie and I developed a fetish, now, can we go back to the mind control thing?"

"There's also a telepathic connection of sorts between us, and my other betas."

Marcy perked up at that. With a curious smile she asked how many others there were. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close. She continued to peer up at him with big blue eyes and Peter smiled at her. With a gentle press of his claws into the back of her neck, he dropped his brow to hers.

The young woman gasped as visions a man, strong and familiar appeared before her. She could remember picking him up when he was small and chasing him and his siblings through the woods. The young woman crumbled against Peter's chest. Through the haze, Marcy could vaguely make out Peter's hand on her lower back, stroking her clammy skin in a soothing manner and the less than soothing bite of his nails on her neck. Her head swam with emotions; regret, love, annoyance, blame, all directed toward the strange young man in the forefront of her mind.

"Shhh…you're okay." Peter could feel her weakly shift in his arms, but didn't let her go. "There's only one more thing you need to see."

The brunette screamed as heat bit and tore at her skin. Peter clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling her screams as she began to flail. He didn't let her feel the loss of his family or hear the heart wrenching screams, instead he just forced the sharp and consuming pain on her. It hurt him to think about it, about how it left him weak and broken, and it hurt to force it on her. The man closed his eyes as she continued to shriek and cry out against his hold.

Carefully, he unsheathedhis claws. He watched the cuts on the back of her neck heal as Marcy continued to whimper and sob. The man frowned as she wrapped her arms around him. Realizing he could use this as a bonding method, he pulled her tight to his chest. He rubbed his temple against her hair, marking her with his scent as she clung to him. After a few seconds of panting, the young woman jerked away.

A glare was hard on her soft features and with a hint of accusation, she muttered, "Was that really necessary?"

The man let out a hum of amusement as he pushed dark bangs from her tear-stained cheeks. His thumb trailed along one of the clean lines as he spoke. "I know it hurts…but you had to know why we're going to do it."

"Do what?" Marcy tilted her head as his touch traveled down to her throat.

Pressing the pad of his thumb against the hollow, he told her, "Kill a man."


	6. Finesse

Marcy's brows rose. "What? Why?"

Peter kept completely calm, not wanting to lose his cool before he got his hands on Myers. He'd have to train her first, he couldn't have her just going off when they finally got a hold of him. There had to be some finesse to this sort of thing.

"He let the people responsible for the fire get away." His hand returned to the brunette's hair as he spoke in a voice completely void of emotion. "He was an insurance broker…he declared it an accident." Slowly, the woman eased back into his arms. Peter didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed it. "He let the people who killed my family get away...and I just won't stand for that."

Marcy stayed there a moment. She had never been the violent type. She had never wanted to hurt people…but then she remembered the searing pain on her right side. The smell of her own burning flesh as it crackled and wore away. The weight as a beam collapsed, pinning her to the splintering floor. The _heat_.

Hate flooded through her veins and she found herself nodding. "Okay."

Peter's expression remained muted as she pulled away from him. With a hint of a smirk, the young brunette jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. "But I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't want to have been psychologically tortured for nothing."

Her Alpha said nothing, not even when she ruffled his hair and walked away. His eyes followed her bare back as she moved quickly through the racks. It was puzzling, how she defended herself. He had expected much more of a fight, but his technique had been affective and the need for revenge now coursed through her like it did for him. He tilted his head slightly as she pulled a long sleeved shirt over her head and the wonderfully creamy skin disappeared from sight.

"I'm not going to need like, wear gloves or a hair net or to burn my fingerprints off with acid, right?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine. Throw your hair up and let's go." He smirked deviously at her, enjoying the fluttery pitter patter of her heart. "No need to impress me."

"I know that," Marcy scoffed at him, "but I would prefer if I didn't end up on America's Most Wanted."

"You'd probably get to meet John Walsh." When she shot him a displeased glance, Peter arched a brow. "What? He's still the host, right?"

The woman grabbed a pair of yoga pants and tugged them on. She walked out of her closet and into her bedroom. With her hair tied in a tight bun, she called for the Alpha who was still pacing the racks. "Alright, let's go!"

Peter walked out without his leather jacket and she chuckled when she realized that he had taken the time to hang it up. With a wink, the Alpha led her out of the loft and out into the cool night air. When there was no car waiting outside for them, the woman arched a questioning brow. Smirking, Peter began to shift; his mass grew and she could faintly hear bones cracking and the sound of skin stretching and snapping, regrouping in places until the monster from the night before stood in front of her. Marcy felt the breath catch in her throat and found that she could only gape, opened mouth and afraid, at him. Every fiber of her being told her to run as it- _he_, the beta reminded herself, approached her. Peter huffed at her, having smelt her fear and found himself irked by it. He nudged her with his large head, then nuzzled against her side until she pushed him away.

"Okay! I get it, you're a good dog." She continued to frown, however, when she realized how they were going to get to Beacon Hills. Eying his shredded clothes, she told him bluntly, "I'm just going to tell you right off the bat, I hate running."

The Alpha let out what she could only assume was a scoff before taking off into the night. The Beta pouted a moment, but eventually launched herself after him.

After getting lost a total of four times, the two werewolves finally found themselves in Beacon Hills. Marcy could tell the man-beast was not amused, and in truth perhaps she had purposely lost her way once or twice, but he deserved it for making her run. The only time that she really hesitated to follow him, however, was when he led her into the woods.

"He lives in the woods?"

Peter ignored her, just watched her from inside the brush, nothing but a pair of dim red eyes in the darkness. With a scoff and visible shake of her head, the woman followed him in.

A distinct, high pitched noise eventually roused Marcy from her sleep. Not opening her eyes, she reached over and grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand beside her bed. She had no recollection of how she had gotten home, or of what had happened to the bus driver. The air in the room was heavy and humid, dense with a strange, faintly familiar smell. Through squinted eyes, she checked the name.

_Dad_ blinked back at her. Marcy sat up a bit as she answered. "Hey."

"Hey, Marce." Damien's slightly accented voice came over the line, loud and bright and painfully cheery. "Hear you've been havin' quite the time in California, eh, babe?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. You could say that."

The sound of loud music and yelling crossed the line, along with her father's laughter and made Marcy nostalgic for her time on the road. "Alright!" He hollered, "That's enough! I'm talkin' to one'a my girls."

There was a cheer of both her and sister's names over the phone before her dad apparently managed to get away from the crowd. "Sorry, 'bout that. Anyway, Clay called me. Said he'd picked you up half naked and bloody. Sounds like my eighties."

The young woman grinned and shook her head. "He exaggerates." Her tone fell as she lied, "I had a few drinks with a friend and things got out of hand, is all."

"Is it?" Damien's tone took on a hint of concern as he continued, "Since when do you let things get out of hand?"

"Not _too_ of out of hand," Marcy rebuffed. She shifted on the bed. The sheets wrapped around her legs made her groan as she tried to untangle herself with one hand. Leaning over, she tugged the thin chain connected to her bedside lamp. A strangled scream almost escaped her throat before she had the good sense to muffle it.

Her sheets were once again stained with blood. It was slathered on her walls and bedpost, her hands, arms and neck. Even the hand that was tightly pressed to her lips reeked of coppery blood and the young woman wretched, staining the sheets with vomit as well as blood.

Vaguely, Marcy could hear her father asking over the line if she was still there, if she was alright and if his cheap prepaid phone was finally shitting out on him.

"D-" The brunette huffed, unable to breathe now that she knew what the peculiar scent was, "I'm gonna call you back in a minute okay?"

"But-"

Choking, she told him, "I'll call you back!" before she let the phone fall.

All but throwing herself from the bed, Marcy ran to the bathroom as more bile rose in her throat. It landed on the toilet lid and splashed onto the floor as she fell to her wobbling knees. Frantic fingers pried the lid open and Marcy's whole body heaved as she threw up a horrifying red liquid, with the underlying stench of copper and bile. A few flashes from the night before flickered behind her tightly closed eyes.

There had been screaming. Wailing, really, fear induced and pain filled as the body was ripped apart. Fur between her teeth, wet warm blood dripping down her chin as she lapped at the animal's neck. Faintly, she remember Peter behind her, naked and laughing. Calling her a natural. Calling her his girl and leading her through the woods when she wanted more.

More what, exactly? Mostly she wanted another opportunity to rip something to pieces. To feel that surge of power, that _rush_, of tearing something apart.

Now, she sat propped up against the cool porcelain. Slowly, she pulled away from the toilet to lean against the tub. The vague sound of her cellphone ringing again made her groan, but she wasn't ready to get up just yet. Her gaze fell to her legs, both of which were splashed with blood. Absently, she wondered where her clothes went.

She knew that Peter had helped her home; she had a pretty vivid memory of his teeth in her shoulder and his claws digging into her hips and- _oh_. Marcy blushed and let herself collapse onto the cold tile floor. That would explain the blood between her thighs…and on her neck...and the hand prints on her bed posts...

The faint ring of the phone interrupted her line of thought and with a deep sigh, Marcy pulled herself up. If she ignored her father, he'd send Clayton over and while she loved the elderly man dearly, she did not feel the need to explain why, for the second day in a row, she was naked and bloody.


	7. One, Two, Three

After reassuring her father that she was fine a total of eight times, Marcy set about trying to scrub the stench of blood and sex out of her mattress. She washed her dark red sheets in boiling hot water, not once but twice while she tackled her bedroom. After almost two hours of vacuuming, scrubbing and _Febreezing_, her bed now stank of cleaning products instead of deer blood and for that she was thankful, if not a little nauseous.

When she was done, the young woman flopped down on the damp mattress and groaned. It was the second day of class she had missed, but she was too exhausted to truly care. It was only a day until exams anyway. No one was really expected to go. Her body was sticky, blood coated and slick with sweat as she pulled herself up. A faint, refreshing breeze wafted through the windows. She hadn't showered beforehand, knowing that if she did, she would only end up bathed in the stench of bleach and be forced to scrub her skin raw again. With a frown, Marcy made her way to the bath, still nude as the day she had been born.

With the hot water turned on, the young woman gathered a small arsenal of bath products and began to dump them in until the only smell in the room was a combination of various perfumes. When the French bathtub was full, Marcy slid into it with a sigh. The bubbles threatened to pour over the edge as she leaned forward to shut the water off.

Her eyes had just fluttered closed when she heard the faint sound of the window sliding shut. Marcy didn't bother to get up, just listened to the sound of her Alpha rifling through her belongings. Briefly, the woman wondered why she had so quickly adjusted to having a strange man break into her home on his whim. With a roll of her eyes, she slipped under the water. She rubbed the dried blood off her face and out of her hair. If she had been surprised by how long she was able to hold her breath, she didn't mention it when she emerged.

Naturally, Peter was found sitting at the edge of the tub. He cocked a brow at her, ignoring the sight of her bare shoulders and the lewd amount of pale skin. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Fuck it," Marcy replied, swiping away some dark hair that clung to her cheeks, "I'm taking a mental health day."

"Is that right?" He asked curiously. He dipped his fingers in the water. When he made contact with her ankle, he dragged them up to her knee. "Not because of me?"

"Well, it's not exactly easy to head into class ready to study the generation phase of vascular plants when you're still picking bits of deer fur out of your teeth."

"Oh, now you're just making excuses."

Marcy stared impassively at him as he drummed on her knee. His touch was light, almost tickling, but she didn't so much as crack a smirk at him. "Maybe I should just make you a key."

The Alpha nodded casually, moving to trail his fingers through the thin veil of bubbles that floated over her stomach. "It would save me the trouble of climbing up your fire escape."

"So this is going to be a normal thing, then?"

"Of course." He smirked at her, noting how her eyes drifted to the burnt half of his face a moment before she brought a curious hand up to stroke his cheek. The caress was surprisingly gentle, despite how she raked her nails over the burned wrinkled skin. "What?"

A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes as she walked her finger tips down to his chin, then down his throat, where she played with the top button of his silk shirt. With a smirk, she caressed the cool skin below. "So…we had sex last night?"

"Yes, we did." Peter leaned down when she gave his shirt a gentle tug. "Bloodlust tends to linger into, well, lust."

"Didn't think to maybe give me a heads up about that?"

Shrugging carelessly, he let his lips brush against hers as he spoke. "Why ruin the surprise?"

With a rough push, Marcy began to shriek at him. "You're a dirty old man, you know that!?"

Peter narrowed dodged a bottle of shampoo as she began to throw anything she could get her hands on at him. He blinked at her before sighing at her antics. "Calm down."

"You calm down!" She retorted childishly, a pout rising on her lips as she slumped back into her bath water. "Pervert."

"Hardly." He rolled his blue eyes at her tone. "And I'll have you know you were the instigator."

The woman scoffed as she plucked a washcloth from the tub's porcelain edge. Still frowning at him, she crossed her leg over her knee and began to scrub the blood and grime from it. "Humph. I bet you did all you could to resist me too, didn't you, Pete?"

His grin sharpened. "You were very insistent." When she pointedly ignored him, he carried on. "If you're worried about pregnancy…"

"I'm on the pill." Marcy tossed him an unimpressed glance. "And I'm fairly certain that if I ever got knocked up with your were-spawn I'd be able to find a nice flight of stairs to throw myself down."

"Good." Peter's gaze swept over her as he carried on. "Last night was the full moon. You wouldn't have been able to control yourself regardless of whether or not you," Leaning down, he curled a wet strand of brown hair around a clawed finger, he went on with a sarcastically understanding nod with a momentary purse of his lips, "_wanted_ it, mentally or emotionally, you were running on baser instincts."

Hardly able to resist the urge to roll her eyes, Marcy switched to her other leg. Her bath water had turned a disgusting shade of brown, her bubbles had popped and faded, leaving her completely open to Peter's wandering eyes.

"No one can blame you for wanting to please your Alpha," he cooed at her, a hint of smug mockery in his smooth voice as she clenched her jaw. "Get yourself cleaned up, we have work to do."

"I can't."

He paused, stiffening only a second before he continued with a languid stroke of her collar bone. "And why not?"

"One," Marcy held up a finger, "I have exams to study for." She lifted another finger, ignoring Peter's heavy sigh and the way his claws bit into her sensitive skin. "Two, I have to buy new sheets for a girl I barely know because the night you went totally batshit and chased me through the courtyard, I ruined hers. And three," She opted to flip her Alpha off as she glared at him. "I'm still a little miffed from last night."

Peter smiled tightly at her. "One," He grabbed her finger and bent it back until he heard the snap of bone under her enraged shriek, "Don't ever do that to me again. Two," He moved to her index finger and did the same, this time only earning a faint growl from the woman as she thrashed, half the water of her bath sloshing onto the floor. "I saw you in that library, I'm sure you're more than prepared, and three," The man mocked, breaking her ring finger with ease. "I think we have a few more pressing matters than buying new linens, don't you?"

The Beta bared her fangs at him and wretched her hand back. Her eyes fell to her hand and gave her busted fingers an experimental flex. She could feel the bones knitting themselves back together, could see it through the skin. It was an unsettling and fascinating process that kept her silent a moment before she sighed at him. "Counter argument."

Peter blinked at her, impressed but outwardly cold. "I'm listening."

"I need to pass my exams or I'll be forced to join back up with my dad." She reached over and pulled the plug out before she stood. Blue eyes followed from her toes, painted black, to her face, matted with dark hair. She could proudly say that her Alpha's eyes only lingered on her naked sex with a lick of his chapped lips only lasted a few seconds longer than necessary before meeting her stare head on. "That was our arrangement. I pass my courses, he pays for college and the summers are mine. If I don't I have to…get back into the family business to make up for it over the summer." She nodded behind him. "Mind passing me a towel, there, Pete?"

When he only stared at her, she scoffed. Smirking, he chastised her gently, "I didn't hear a please, Miss Tucker."

"Peter. _Please_ pass me a towel." Marcy held out her hand expectantly and tightly wrapped the plush white towel around her before accepting his hand. He helped her step out of the tub as she continued. "As for the linens, I have to show her that I am both_ a_, still alive and _b_, grateful that she kept her mouth shut. If I don't I could end up on the six o'clock news and that's not good for either of us."

"And your third rebuttal?"

"Is this where you want me to insincerely apologize for hurting your feelings? Or did I simply offend your sensitivities when I flipped you the bird?"

His gaze leveled slightly before softening. "Apology accepted."


	8. Okay, what, no

Peter leaned in the doorway of her closet. With a slight huff, he watched as she quickly fluttered about the room, gathering clothes as she did. When she passed by him, he ran a finger over the smooth flesh of her shoulders. "Such lovely skin."

"You sir," Marcy rolled her eyes as she scolded him. She had never been particularly body conscious, the internet could verify that, and had to admit, it was nice being touched in a way that was somehow more intimate than sexual. "Have a fetish."

"Perhaps." He nodded, his gaze not leaving her ass as she slipped on a pair of lace panties. When she reached for her skirt, he took her hand and turned her around. Marcy glared as he backed her up against the dresser, but didn't resist.

"It looks like a family crest but…" Peter cupped the back of her knee. Lifting it, he inspected the thick black lines that swirled and danced on her skin with a disapproving frown. "The name's wrong."

Her heart skipped as he met her gaze.

"Who's _Corance_?"

"Mother's maiden name."

The Alpha tutted at her and dug his claws deeply into the same skin he had been praising only moments before. "Did you know…" He trailed one of his nails up her thigh, watching as it cut through the ink, "that deception has a very distinct smell?"

"I did not." Marcy grabbed his wrist and lifted his hand. "But I'll keep that in mind."

He smirked at her, but let her go. Peter watched as she dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a blue cardigan and almost winced at it. It wasn't that she looked bad; it was just odd knowing about the piercings and tattoo that was hidden underneath such innocent clothes. With a casual flick of her wrist, Marcy led him to the kitchen. As she went about gathering milk and orange juice from her fridge, she asked him just what he had expected to accomplish that day, before his plans got derailed by, quite frankly, reality.

"The basics."

"I thought we did that last night." Marcy continued to meander about, setting bowls and cups on the table. "What exactly is _the basics_, anyway?"

Her Alpha arched a brow as she set a glass of orange juice in front of him. A smirk tugged at his lips as a bowl of cereal followed. It was most likely a subconscious action on her part, serving him first, but it gave him confidence. She had good instincts, suitable ones for a proper Beta. She was sharp, trusting, maybe a little rebellious, but not a renegade. Realizing that she was still waiting for an answer, he smiled compliantly at her. "The basics are the very minimum of what you'll need to know to survive."

"Such as?" She dropped into the chair across from him and began picking at her Lucky Charms, absently plucking the marshmallows out and putting them on a napkin.

"Teaching you how to hunt, how to fight, how to control yourself, and how to lie. That's what we were going to work on today, by the way. The lying." He took a bite of his cereal and smiled when she filed suit. The sharp tug of his scars was irritating, almost an ache as he did so. "Which, by the way, you're terrible at. A toddler could see through you."

Marcy shrugged as she swallowed. "And who, pray tell, am I lying to?"

"To whomever I tell you to." He replied with an air of simple finality.

"Can't I just bat my eyelashes and squeeze my tits together like a good girl?" The woman asked with a hint of annoyance. "I mean, that's still the best method of distraction I've ever seen."

"While I'm sure that would be something to see, Marcella, it's hardly going to keep us safe."

"Safe from _who, _exactly?"

"From anyone who wishes us harm."

She clenched her jaw slightly. Pointing her spoon at him, she snapped, "You know, you're a bit of a cryptic bastard, aren't you?"

"Yes I am." Peter replied with an impish grin. For a few moments, they ate in silence. When he did speak again, it was on a considerably more disturbing topic. "I feel I should warn you, you're going to start your period in, oh, fifteen minutes, maybe."

Marcy's spoon froze an inch from her mouth. Her eyes narrowed on his face, flickering over his casual posture and laid back demeanor. "Okay. _No_. How-"

"I can smell it on you, Marcella."

"That's disgusting."

"It's natural." He shrugged nonchalantly as he stood. "I'll be back in a few days when you're in a more…agreeable state."

Narrowly, he dodged her spoon before he sauntered over to the front door. Spinning on his heel, Peter ignored the younger woman's glare as he reminded her, "And maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a key made."

"Anyone ever tell you, you're a total douche, Mr…?"

"Hale."

"Mr. _Hale_."

He nodded graciously at her and went about his way. With a heavy sigh, the woman collected her things. Before she followed suit, Marcy slipped on a feminine hygiene product and threw a few in her purse. Just in case the creepy son of a bitch was right(which he was).

Marcy made sure, when she showed up at Lisa's door; she was the epitome of pathetic. She threw her hair up in a messy bun, smudged her eye liner until it looked like she hadn't slept in a month and even put some bandages on her neck for effect.

The redhead's brows shot up as she opened the door. "Oh- you, you came back!"

"I said I would…" Marcy bit her lip, playing shy, as she shifted from foot to foot. "You don't mind do you? I really needed the distraction and I thought…well, here."

Lisa blinked, but accepted the package. "What…?"

"New sheets." The brunette smiled weakly, making the expression look almost painful as she did. "Like I said…I needed a distraction and-"

"No, I mean, you didn't have to do that! I mean, I appreciate it, but…" Floundering, Lisa opened the door wider. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

Marcy smirked. "I'd like that."

The dorm was just as she remembered. Cluttered, but welcoming, much like Lisa herself. Marcy took a seat at the tiny kitchen table as Lisa asked about her health.

"Please tell me you went to the hospital at least."

Marcy nodded her thanks as a mug(with yet another cat on it, how many did this girl own?) was set in front of her. "Fifteen stitches."

"Seriously?!" The redhead gaped at her as she slid into the other chair. "I mean, it just looked like a lot of blood."

"Most of them were pretty shallow, thankfully." Marcy took a dainty sip. "I think all the running just kind of…spread it around and well…" She feigned embarrassment, covering her cheek with her hand. "I was…_am_…menstruating."

"Oh! Thank god. I mean, when you left I thought I'd sent you out to die!" Lisa let out a hysterical giggle. She raked a hand through her bright hair and went on, a touch calmer, "I just mean, I'm glad you're okay."

"The needle was no fun." The brunette smiled indulgently at her. "And I'm not looking forward to the next two, but I suppose a little pain beats rabies, now doesn't it?"

"I bet."

"I just went with pink, for the sheets I mean." The werewolf swallowed absently. "To match your old ones."

Lisa nodded as she pulled them out of the bag. "They look great. Thanks."

"My pleasure." Marcy crossed her leg with an exaggerate wince as she went on. "How're your exams going?"

Lisa sighed mournfully. She slumped against her table, her head dropping to her hand as she said bluntly, "Slowly. Yourself?"

"I start mine tomorrow."

"I hate you." The redhead snipped.

The brunette chuckled softly and took another swallow of the black coffee. It was lukewarm, but appreciated, as it gave Marcy something to do with her hands. "That bad?"

"I'm seriously contemplating dropping out and joining the circus." Lisa replied. It was at that moment her alarm went off in another room. This time the grimace on Marcy's face was real- the noise sharp and harsh to her now sensitive ears. The redhead swore under her breathe and ran to turn it off, blushing and stammering apologies all the way.

"Sorry! I set it so I knew when to leave! I've got work in half an hour and-"

"Say no more." The brunette slipped out of her seat and offered another mute smile. "I didn't mean to impose. I just wanted to say thanks."

"It's fine. Thanks for the sheets."

"Call it even?" Marcy offered agreeably as Lisa walked her to the door.

The student paused the door way, framing it casually with her arm as she grinned at the banged up looking brunette. "Sure! I'm just glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you."

Lisa blushed. Without another word, the two departed, Lisa back inside, Marcy off on her own.

As she went, the brunette pulled the bandage off and tossed it in a garbage can. She fixed her make up in a window and carried on with her day. She had a few errands to run(including getting a key made for her Alpha- not that she wanted to necessarily, but she supposed she was more likely to hear a door open than a window, so she could at least have some warning of when he would be entering her apartment), getting the biggest, baddest nail file she could find and then finally booking a private session in the biology lab. After that, she studied for a few hours.

It wasn't exciting, but the subject was interesting. It appeared lycanthropy myths dated back to Ancient Greek, and it seemed that nearly every culture had some variant of it. Of man turning into beast. She pursed her lips as she scrolled through every article she could find.

Some speculated it was a madness, others legend. Only a few sites with very unreliable sources said it was true. That there was fact among fiction. They didn't mention a cure, and with a heavy sigh, Marcy slammed her laptop shut.

When her mind wandered back to Peter, however, she opened it back up and typed his name into Google. Instantly several articles on a house fire popped up and with an arched brow, her attention shifted as she reached for a pen.

She was going to need to write this down.


	9. The Expense of Curiosity

After four exams and two presentations on microbiology and the various uses of flax, Marcy was perfectly happy to fry her brain with some _Tales from the Crypt_ reruns from the eighties. It was nearing midnight when Peter showed up, but she wasn't about to move from her armchair, even when he did frown disapprovingly at her.

"This? This is what you've been doing with your days off? Binge eating and watching trash?"

Blue eyes narrowed at him in the dim light. Defensively, she clutched her bowl of mint chocolate ice cream to her chest. "I am not binge eating. I've got half a bowl and it's a classic." She picked up the stack of papers from the arm rest and dropped them on the table.

"Why didn't you tell me you were catatonic?"

Peter's head tilted as he approached, slowly and calmly. He picked up the pile with blank expression, his gaze flicking over the lavish cursive writing before he looked up at her. "My, my Marcella…you really have been busy, haven't you?"

"It's all there. The fire, the hospitalization…I even got some info on that nurse of yours."

"And what, exactly, is it that you planning on doing with this information, Miss Tucker?"

Marcy pursed her lips as she blinked in surprise. "I don't intend to do anything with it."

He arched a brow, the skin on his scarred face stretching to do so. "Is that right? Then why go through all the trouble?"

"Mostly curiosity." Marcy stood, set her bowl on the table and approached him. The Alpha didn't move. He peered down at her with blank features as she eyed his scars, her voice soft as she went on. "You didn't tell me about your family or the coma or that your niece was is missing…"

Peter felt his jaw clench. When his hand found her throat, she didn't fight him. Didn't squirm or whimper even as he slammed her down on the table. His eyes were a bright red in the low light as he snarled at her. "You meddling bitch."

Her yellow eyes shined back at him, fangs bared as her arms reached out. Her hands met his shoulders and she tugged him closer. With a growl, Peter slammed her back, hearing a satisfying crack of the wood beneath her skull before he dragged her forward to face him. Pain blossomed in her skull, making Marcy wince as his breath hit her cheek. Only inches apart, he glowered expectantly at her.

"I wasn't doing it to _meddle_." She spat at him, sending a splatter of blood from her mouth across his face. "I wasn't going to use it against you."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you know I can't lie." Marcy swallowed as best she could around the vicelike grip on her throat. "Not to you."

"No, you can't, can you?" With a satisfied grin, Peter let her fall back against the table. As she lay panting, he circled her. "Then why do it? Why seek me out at all?"

Marcy went to sit up, but a stern hand eased her back down. "Because I knew if I asked, you'd shut me out."

"Well, it is a sensitive subject, wouldn't you agree?"

"I wasn't trying to prod at old wounds." His Beta huffed as she wiped at her mouth. The chunk she had bitten out of her tongue had already healed, but the heavy taste of copper still lingered. "I was curious. I didn't want to hide it from you because I thought you'd get mad…apparently I would've been better off."

Sniffing the air, he smiled. There was a sizzle of annoyance, even some anger in her scent, but no deception. She pouted up at him; an expression that would make a lesser man drop to his knees to appease her every whim no doubt. He offered a hand. Marcy took it with a resentful sigh. The man eased her into a sitting position, brushing her long hair from her shoulders as he tilted her head back.

Peter watched the bruises that graced her neck heal. The dark purple fading to a sickly green in a matter of seconds before returning to creamy white. "You knew how I'd react didn't you?"

"I assumed." Marcy admitted with a nod.

"And you still told me." His gaze met hers, soft and warm; as though he hadn't just cracked her skull open on the coffee table.

The woman edged herself away from the table until she was pressed flush against her Alpha. "If you wanna do this, to get back at whoever did this," Her hand cupped the scarred side of his face almost tenderly, with just the faintest bite of her claws making it not so. "I have to know what you know."

Peter took her wrist and gave her fingers a lit nip with blunted teeth. Mouthing them, he swallowed as her scent became heady and sweet. "Now why is that?"

"Fresh eyes, for starters." Marcy ignored the heat that began to swell in her stomach as he licked at her finger tips, his fangs growing out to prick. As best she could, she shook the haze from her vision as she went on. "You're obviously bias. You might have missed-"

His teeth sunk into the digit. She winced.

"I'm just saying!" The woman snapped at him, wrenching her hand from him. "You go over the same thing enough times you get used to seeing it! You skip and skim and you can't see something that's right in front of you."

Peter frowned, ignoring the dribble of blood that trailed down his chin. His eyes swept over her form again and he licked his lips. "Oh, I see just fine, Marcella."

The young woman rolled her eyes. "Horny old bastard."

"Not that old." He smirked again, wider this time, making his scars pull painfully.

Marcy's brows furrowed but she said nothing. Instead, she went back over to her ice cream and dropped back down in her arm chair. Taking a bite of it, she directed her attention back to the television with a rebellious scowl.

Ignoring this, Peter asked, "I take it you're done with your exams than?"

"Yep."

He slipped over to her, standing behind the chair as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "So you're off for the summer?"

"Yep." The brunette repeated, licking a bit of ice cream off the back of the spoon. "I suppose you want to get started on the basics?"

With an amused chuckle, he looped a strand of her dark hair around his finger. He could smell it on her; a faint hint of arousal under her skin. Feeling his fangs grow, Peter brushed his nose along her pulse, inhaling the intoxicating scent as he spoke. "Oh I think we can do a little better than that."

Marcy's eyes fluttered closed. "Pete?"

"Mhm?" He nodded, trailing the tip of his tongue up to her jaw. A wicked smile crossed his lips as goose bumps broke out on her soft skin.

"Why do you think I'd let you fuck me after you bashed my head into the coffee table?"

"I didn't mean to…" Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head before moving around to the front of the chair. She peered up at him expectantly, a devious smile on her lips as he crouched down to her level. With a burned hand, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "But you did provoke me."

Marcy brushed his hand away. "Who're you, my abusive husband?"

"Why must you always resort to name calling?"

"You called me a meddling bitch not five minutes ago." She grinned impishly. With bright eyes, she took a bite of her ice cream. She settled deeper into her chair, her short legs tucked underneath her as she spoke. "I went over some of the legends too. Couldn't get through all of them, but…I still have some questions, if that's okay with you?"

"I suppose." Peter sighed, the action heavy with disappointment as he moved to sit on the arm of her chair. Extending the claw on his index finger, he scooped some of her ice cream out with it.

Marcy shifted to accommodate him, tilting the bowl in his direction. "You said there's no cure. But what about weaknesses? What about the Van Helsing principle?"

"The _what_ principle?" The Alpha licked his claw.

"The Van Helsing principle." The younger woman repeated. She smirked at him. "It's a theory I have. If something supernatural exists, or is thought to exist, there will be fanatics out there trying to hunt it."

Peter stiffened, and apparently that was all the answer his Beta needed.

With a hint of concern, she confirmed to herself. "So there are people out there. Hunters."

"There are." He agreed, his hand coming up to rest on her head. Stroking her hair, Peter pulled her to his side. "People who would do anything to destroy us."

Marcy allowed his affections, enjoying the soft touch and frankly, appreciating the honesty. Her eyes fluttered as she relaxed, tucking herself into his side as he spoke.

"We don't have many weaknesses. The silver thing is a complete myth." He ran his finger through her dark locks, "Never understood that one."

"People speculate that it's an allergic reaction."

"People?" Peter fisted her hair. "What people?"

"On the internet, geez."

His hold loosened and he carried on, rubbing the spot absently. "Hm. There are some things that can hurt us. Wolfsbane for one. Even a little bit can cause pain, delirium…more concentrated doses can kill us."

"That…" Marcy shook her head. "Sounds fucking terrifying."

"It is. Mountain Ash is another. It's less deadly and more an annoyance." The Alpha shifted, trying to coax Marcy back into his side. "We can't cross it."

Instead of leaning into him, the woman stood. Empty bowl in hand, she crossed over to the kitchen. "I'm still listening, by the way."

"As for physical things…"

Before she realized it, he was behind her. Hips pressing against her, Peter pinned her to the sink as he cooed down at her. "Things like evisceration. Getting cut in half…burns take a particularly long time to heal."

"I can see that." Marcy muttered.

He let out a puff of laughter against her neck. "Cute." He dug his claws into her side with a snarl, his thick sharp nails tearing through the thin fabric of her pajama shorts to bite at her skin. "It's not so funny when you're listening to your nephews and nieces screech or your sisters choke to death while their husbands tries to bust out a barred window."

The woman turned to face him. "I'm sorry for your loss. But don't think you can play the dead family card on me whenever you want something." She smirked, her plump lips twisting seductively as she draped an arm around his shoulder. "That's what the Alpha card is for."

"Not one for mixing words, are you?"

"Not really. My dad says honesty is the best way to get people to piss off." Her shoulders bobbed casually as she told him, "So I've tried to keep that in mind."

"He certainly sounds like an eloquent man." Peter cupped her cheek. His gaze searched her face, looking for weakness or fear as his claws grew out. The one poking out of his thumb was a hair's breathe from her eye, but she was hardly distressed. There was only faint arousal to be found, only a listless shift of her hips and an unimpressed blink.

Ignoring his comment, she asked when he intended to start going over the basics with her.

With a twisted smile, he leaned down. Brushing his lips against hers, Peter replied, "We can start right now, if you like."


	10. The Basics Are Rather Rough

"I wouldn't have taken you for a classic rock fan," Peter said in a calm, lazy tone as he sorted through the rack of CDs beside her stereo system. Out of his peripheral vision he could see her squirming, trying to pull her hands free from where they were, quite literally, nailed to her knees. He opened one of the cases. "I assumed you'd be more the bubble gum pop type."

Marcy shuddered at the sound of her Alpha's voice. Her fingers were twitching of their own accord, unable to handle the strain that had been placed on them in the past hour. The nails embedded in her knee caps were thick, long and coarse, rusted with age. Blood dribbled and dried as it poured down her legs, but it was the least of her worries. Her main concern was the pair of alligator jump cables attached to the tip of each nail.

Janis Joplin's voice crept out of the speakers, low and rough as Peter approached her. He crouched to be level with her face. Her naturally pale skin was flushed with strain and sweat, but she met his gaze with a ferocity that pleased him. The man wiped some of the matted brown hair from her cheeks with a burned hand and a gentle touch.

"Ready for round two?"

"The minute you let me go…" Marcy gasped, her mouth dry as she chuckled, "I'm gonna rip you apart."

"Very good." He praised her with a grin. "Keep that spark, it'll keep you alive."

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her back until she was slouched in the lawn chair he had tied her legs to. From the knee down, she was secured with knots to the thin metal legs of the chair. Marcy wasn't even entirely sure where the chair had come from. He had simply left the room and returned with it with no explanation.

"Now. What're we going to do different this time?"

The woman swallowed. Her head was spinning, but her voice was strong as she answered, "Keep my pheromones in check."

"And?" He coaxed.

"And my heartbeat." Her eyes narrowed at him as she sneered, "Which would be a lot easier if I didn't have to worry about being shocked with a fucking car battery."

Peter smiled cruelly at her as he tapped the top of said battery with a sharp claw. "By the time we're through, you won't need such extreme measures to lie."

Marcy glared up at him through the dark strands of her hair. "Can I at least have some water?"

"When we're done."

"Fuck. Okay."

The Alpha searched his Beta's eyes as he asked, "How old are you?"

"Twenty five," she told him with a heavy sigh.

"Where do you go to school?"

"California Institute of Natural Sciences."

"Who's your Alpha?"

"I don't-ah!" Marcy squeaked with pain as he shocked her. As she jerked, her hands pulled at the nails, sending another trickle of blood down her legs and another pulse of pain up her arms.

Peter tutted at her, wiggling a disappointed finger in her sweating face as he warned her. "Watch those pheromones, Marcella."

"How? How am I supposed to control something like that?" She asked, a low growl in her chest as she shifted in the lawn chair.

"You have to choose another emotion, deception has a very dis-"

"_Distinct_ _smell_, yeah, I know, you've said it eighteen fuckin'-_ah, goddamn it, Peter!"_

"Don't sass me." He replied with a smile. Lowering the dial once again, Peter asked, "Who's your Alpha?"

She forced an impish grin. Pulling at the nails, she tried to focus on the pain rather than her anger. "You're my Alpha."

There was a visible shift in the man in front of her. His posture tightened, as did his expression…he even smelt different. A pungent, thick air took over his normal aura of charred skin and bleach. Red rims lined his blown pupils as he leaned over her.

"You think this is a game?" Peter asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of her ear and enjoying the shudder it earned from her.

"Of course it is."

"That you can open your legs for just anyone and they'll let you go?"

Marcy shook her head weakly. "I didn't open my legs for you. I just told the truth."

"I thought I told you not to do that." He chastised her lightly, his thoughts drifting to more carnal pleasures as his gaze slipped down to her heaving chest. His head tilted. Six years was a long time to go without a woman. Even comatose, there were certain urges that pent up- whether the body was able or not. He watched her fingers flex around the thick metal in her knees. Leaning back on the table, Peter smiled coyly at her. "Pass this test and maybe we can have some fun."

"I've never been very good with tests." Marcy grit her teeth. Inhaling through them, she closed her eyes tightly. "Can you at least give me a few fucking pointers?"

"Believe what you say."

"That's not a fucking pointer, Peter, that's-"

A sharp ringing broke her train of thought. Her Alpha checked the clock on her oven and clicked his tongue. "Now who would be calling you at one in the morning?"

Marcy huffed and cursed under her breath. "That would be Logan."

"Logan?" Peter repeated with a hint of suspicion.

"He's my little brother." She shifted. "If I don't answer it, he'll keep calling and calling and it'll go on until the police come."

He stared at her.

"He assumes if I'm not there at this hour I'm being gang raped in an alley way." When he rolled his eyes at her, Marcy got defensive. "Just get the phone!"

Smirking, Peter wandered over to the cordless phone and clicked it on. There was a blare of music over the line, full of static and heavy metal as he answered. "Hello?"

"Hi! Is this Marcy's place?" A male voice yelled over the noise.

Her Alpha turned to look at her with an amused expression. "Is this Marcy's place?"

"Just give me the phone!" The tied up Beta snapped at him. When he chose instead to only press the phone to her ear, she glared at him. "Hi, Logan."

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend!" Her brother cackled, the music lowering slightly as he moved away from whatever was making the noise. "I thought you were going to live the solitary life!"

Marcy blushed with embarrassment as Peter chuckled. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Than why's he at your crib at one am?"

"Is there something you wanted, Lo, or…?"

"Yeah, hey, so there's a gig at Heyland Park and I was wondering what amp you would recommend?"

"You've done Heyland a thousand times, it's a standard." Marcy shifted uncomfortably under the man's curious stare as she went on. "Go with the 100."

"Yeah? I wasn't sure what with the rain and all, but okay. I'll talk to you later, 'kay, Mars?"

"Sure. Be good."

Logan laughed over the line, "Okay, play safe."

Peter clicked off and leaned against the table. For a few seconds, he only smirked at her. "You and your brother are close?"

"You could say that."

"Is he your only sibling?" He asked, his finger circle the dial of the battery as he waited for an answer.

There were certain things that one avoided while being asked personal questions, but Marcy decided to brush that aside. Instead of answering, she swept her eyes over Peter's form. He was tall, fairly lean…the side of his face was horribly burned and horrifying, yes, but he had a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Plus he smelt fucking _amazing_. The woman supposed it had to do with those goddamn pheromones he was always talking about.

He tilted his head at her as she began to pant, her eyes shifting to yellow as she peered up at him through her lashes. Peter pursed his lips. "Oh…have we found a way to mask our scent?"

"Untie me."

"Answer my question."

"I don't." She grit out, teeth bared as she tried in vain to pull the nails from her hands without being too obvious.

Blanketing them with his own, the Alpha pressed. "Do you have any other siblings?"

"I said I don't."

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were telling the truth." Peter grinned at her, all teeth and malice as he undid the alligator clips from the nails. "Which will have to do. For now, at least."

Marcy let out a relieved sigh. A wince crossed her face as he grasped her wrist, the other hand taking hold of the tip of the nail. The man glanced at her. When she met his gaze, he ripped the nail from her knee. His lips crashed against hers, muffling the scream as it ripped from her throat. Blood pulsed from the wound, but neither paid it any mind as her bleeding hand tangled in his thick dark hair. While she was distracted, Peter yanked the other nail out and threw it across the room. It fell to the floor with a clink, but Marcy was too focused on getting him out of his jacket to care.

The webbed burns on his face were distracting, not in their roughness but rather almost waxy texture as he mouthed her neck. It sent a shiver down Marcy's spine as he paused.

"No…" She keened, pressing closer to him, her pelvis lifting to meet the hard on that was straining against his jeans. "Why'd you-"

"If we do this…" Peter panted, barely able to resist the urge to bury his teeth in her shoulder as he swallowed. "I might not be able to control myself."

A frustrated growl rose in the woman's chest. To prove a point, she stepped away from him. She felt his claws extend, catching the bare skin of her hips but he let her go. The Alpha's eyes were dark in the dim light with only the faintest line of red surrounding his blown pupils, her blood smudged along the unburned side of his face. Raising a claw of her own, Marcy dragged it down the front of her shirt. It split with ease, flashing the swell of her breasts as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

A teasing smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she rubbed him through his pants. "Who says I want you to control yourself?"

Peter grasped her hair, the thick strands slipping through his fingers as she mouthed at the bulge between his legs. His scent was heady and the skin under the material so hot Marcy could almost taste him. Just the idea made her sex ache, but before she could so much as unzip his jeans, Peter had pushed her back. With a pleading whine, she reached for him again.

"So needy," he taunted, stroking her cheek with his thumb before using his claws to tear off the rest of her pajama top. When she reached to do the same to him, he caught her by the wrist. "Careful. I'm not as pretty as you are."

"Don't be shy, Pete." Marcy shrugged off what was left of her shirt.

She tossed her dark hair back, letting him caress the bare skin of her neck before she reached for him again. This time, Peter let her. His hands, rough and warm explored her face and shoulders, the valley of her collar bones as she undid the few bottom buttons of his shirt. With a glance at his face, Marcy ran her tongue over the burned flesh of his stomach. His hand stilled on her neck as she carefully sat up, tasting the warm sweat of his skin as she palmed his erection.

The sound of his breathing, quick and ragged above her, was enough to make the Beta wet, but the feel of his claws dragging across her skin was something else entirely. For someone who, from what she could tell, was quite sexually frustrated, Peter was surprisingly gentle; the way his nails pulled at her skin, scratching just enough to coax pain but not enough to _hurt_. She shuddered and nipped at him. The sensation was odd, but certainly not unpleasant. His burns were thick and taut under her lips. Hesitantly, she traced one of them with her tongue and lifted a curious finger to stroke at the marred skin. When she looked up, she found Peter staring down at her intently.

Marcy shrunk under his gaze, not wanting to upset him. It was odd, how one disapproving glance could affect her.

The man smirked at her sudden display of self-consciousness. Trailing his claws up her throat, he tilted her head up. When their gazes met, he cooed, "Oh, Marcella. Don't be shy."

With an elated grin, the Beta resumed her licking with vigor. A low groan slipped from his lips as he leaned back against the table. The faint sound of his zipper being undone made his cock twitch as she tugged his pants down.

"Didn't peg you for the commando type," Marcy teased, her yellow eyes not leaving the bead of pre-cum that was slowly dribbling down his thick shaft.

Her Alpha let out a sigh as her warm breath caressed the weeping head of his cock. "Could you not be using your mouth for something a bit more…gratifying?"

"What?" She smirked and caught the bead on her tongue, the salty taste making her eyes roll back in to her head as she lapped at the tip. "You don't like my commentary?"

A low growl escaped him as he grabbed her by the hair. "It's not the most stimulating I've ever heard."

The woman barked out a laugh before she set to work. She moved down to his base, dragging her tongue over the skin just above his balls, before pressing her tongue flat. Slowly, she eased up, cleansing the hot member of his mess while her claws dug into his hips. The strokes of her tongue were heavy, purposeful as she lapped at him like an eager slut.

The air was heavy with sex, a mix of his arousal and her wetness, both of which were in no way helping Peter keep control. His fangs grew out, his claws digging into her scalp as she took the head of his prick in her mouth. The metallic scent of her blood only made it harder to keep control of himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Marcy, meanwhile, had taken certain matters into her own hands, so to speak. While one hand rubbed at the scarred flesh along his groin, the other hand wandered into her shorts, her fingers grinding feverishly against her clit. Her fangs had grown out, scraping at the sides of his shaft as she tightened her lips around him, impatient to taste him. Another trickle of his cum coated her throat as she shifted, the taste alone making her moan as she began to suck his cock in earnest.

He wasn't going to last. Peter grit his teeth as her hand slipped to cup his balls. It had been too long and her mouth was too fucking warm. Marcy pulled away, letting him fall from her lips. He glared down at her, a sharp order on his lips when she leaned forward and blew a cool stream of air along his wet tip. The man let out a grunt as a pulse of cum shot from his cock, one his Beta was quick to catch in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head zealously, her fangs just barely the sides as she sucked him dry. A high pitch keen left her throat, the taste of him leaving her eager for more despite the through coating of come her tongue had received.

For a few moments, the two were silent, only the sound of their panting filled the room as she cleaned him up. Marcy rested her head on his stomach, idly nipping at his scarred stomach as her Alpha patted her hair.

"Well. You certainly know how to use that pretty mouth of yours, don't you, Marcella?"

**A/N: So, I now have a trailer for this one up. Just youtube Me and Mr. Wolf fanfic trailer and it shall be found.**


	11. Pink Leopard Print Is Fucking Stylish

Surprisingly, Peter did not take long to get hard again. Marcy supposed it had to do with six years of sexual repression, but she didn't exactly have a whole lot of time to contemplate it as he threw her to the floor. The kitchen tiles were cold on her bare back, but his mouth was hot as he bit and sucked at the skin of her chest. He was driven by instinct; her scent, the heady swell of it between her legs as he sank his teeth into the soft curve of her breast.

Marcy let out a quiet moan as the familiar feeling of her own blood dribbled down her stomach. Her Alpha nosed at it, trailing his tongue through the shallow pool of red liquid as he moved down to her core.

"I don't recall saying you could start without me," Peter murmured, stripping her of her shorts with ease. He chuckled at the scoff he received in response, but couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from the moist flesh of her cunt as she shifted under his scrupulous gaze.

"Okay, seriously, quit ruining my clothes." She giggled as he trailed his tongue over her wet folds. His Beta shifted, pressing him closer as she tried to push her hands under his shirt.

A low moan slipped from the man's lips as Marcy scratched his back, her sharp nails leaving red streaks in their wake. With a firm tug, the fabric was shredded, exposing the ruddy burns along the right side of his shoulders. Peter stiffened as she retracted her claws, choosing instead to stroke his damaged skin with the soft pads of her finger tips. A shudder coursed down his spine.

Nuzzling her clit, the Alpha let out a huff of laughter that earned a low gasp from her. Sinking his teeth into the apex of her thigh, Peter moved upwards as he spoke. "Now what am I supposed to wear back to the home, Marcella?"

"You've…" Marcy bucked her hips as he slipped two fingers into her in one rough motion. The woman bit her lip, determined not to let him distract her as he thumbed the sensitive, swollen nub above her sex. "Got that jacket…which, by the w- _Christ!"_

Peter grinned wickedly as he worked his claw over her clit in a rough, uneven pace, making her squirm as he nipped at her breast. The way his stubble caught her flushed skin, combined with the strange sensation of his burned chin was distracting, but not unwelcome as she grabbed him by the hair. With a smile, she kissed him as she hooked her leg over his waist.

Peter let his eyes slip closed as her tongue coaxed his into her mouth. He trailed his claws up her leg, electing a giggle from the younger woman. While she nipped at his bottom lip, Marcy busied herself with kicking the pants from his knees before she took his hips in her hands. As she dug her claws into his scarred flesh, she hissed at him, "Get on with it."

"Don't rush me," her Alpha replied with an air of casualty as he pulled her closer. Her pale legs framed his hips as he leaned down. Eyes bright and red, Peter licked a strip over her nipple to her collar bone. A shrewd smirk crossed his lips as he sunk his teeth into it, coursing blood from the wound. A shriek from her throat, but didn't deter him as Peter snapped his hips, thrusting into her with brutal force.

"Christ, Pete!" Marcy rocked against him, her head rolling back on her shoulders as he sucked and bit at her sensitive, overstimulated skin. Annoyed with his snickering, the woman gave as good as she got and let baser instincts take hold. Claws raked down his back as she snapped at him, her teeth catching his jaw and tearing into the burned skin.

With a feral growl, Peter bared down on her, thrusting into her at a pace he knew she'd be unable to keep up with as he knotted her long dark hair in his fist. Jerking her head back, he lapped at her throat, going lower until his teeth latched onto a taut nipple. Marcy keened, but it was futile, trying to meet his sharp, almost violent thrusts while he pinned one hand next to her head.

The other was free to do as it pleased, however and the woman used it to her full advantage. Panting, she buried her claws in his shoulder blade and tugged. A moan escaped her throat as his blood poured over his side, bathing her stomach in the vital fluid. The air now heavy with metallic tang, the werewolves began to rut like animals. Slashing and pawing at each other with malice, unable to control themselves so soon after the full moon and unable to separate pain from pleasure the man bore his weight down on the Beta. Marcy bucked against his hold, trying in vain to turn the situation in her favor.

Peter didn't budge. His thrusts didn't pause, nor did they lose their savage intent as he grabbed her by the knee. The woman kicked at him, but her actions went ignored as he threw her leg over his shoulder. The Alpha dragged her by the hips as he sat back on his knees, happy to lift her to meet his pace as he seemed fit. With a groan, Peter slowed his thrusts. His hips rolled, each time hitting a sweet spot in his Beta's cunt that made her face flush a pretty shade of pink. A choked gasp escaped her throat when he stopped his pumps.

"What? No, damn it, Hale!"

A hand left her waist, leaving a dark bruise that instantly healed. Marcy hardly noticed, too focused on how her clit ground against the coarse hair that trailed up to his naval. Without a word, her Alpha dragged his sharpened nails over her stomach, between the valley of her breasts, his gaze drifting the bars in her nipples as they moved to her throat.

With a huff, Marcy shifted beneath him. "You are such a tease."

"I've been called many things," Peter stroked the hollow of her throat delicately, a twist of his hips eliciting a pleased sigh from the woman. With a shrug, he fought the urge to moan as she clenched around him, tight and hot. He chuckled instead. "But I'll admit, that's a new one."

"I bet." One of her hands reached up, her nails catching the withered skin of his burned cheek. Dragging his mouth down to hers, Marcy licked his bottom lip before latching onto it with blunt teeth.

The spark of red in his eyes was the only warning she received before he began to pound into her. A heat that had diminished in their interlude built back up quickly, a coil tightening in her abdomen as her Alpha bit and nipped down her neck.

A low growl left her throat as Peter's claws sank into her side. With a cry, she came, her Alpha close behind her as he sank his teeth into her breast. His hips stuttered against hers, short hard bursts of force pinning her to the floor as sparks clouded their vision. Marcy let out a sigh as Peter slumped against her. For a few moments, they were still. His brow against hers, they lay panting on the cool tile floor with only the sound of their breathing and the faint sound of Janis Joplin's voice crooning from the speakers in the living room.

Nuzzling his burned cheek against her flushed smooth one, Peter smirked "What was it you were saying about my jacket, Marcella?"

"Mhm?" Blue eyes fluttered up at him before she gave his chest a light push. "It's July, what're you doing with a fucking leather trench coat anyhow?"

"It's stylish." He replied, moving off her. With a content huff, the man pulled Marcy to his chest. She took no qualms with this, settling into his side with only a quiet chuckle. As she raised one hand to stroke the tight flushed skin of his burned chest, Peter carried on. "Don't you like it?"

"It's lovely," The Beta told him with a hint of sarcasm.

"What do you know about fashion? You dress like a Sunday school teacher half the time."

"I like to keep a low profile."

Peter's expression tightened, but he didn't ask. She'd just avoid the question anyway, he thought, running his claws through her dark hair. "Hm."

Marcy sighed, content, as she buried her face in the apex of his neck and shoulder. The werewolves lay, legs entwined as their bites and scratches healed. It only took a few minutes, but neither of them moved as the final gash along the woman's side seamed itself together. Peter's fingers followed it, a touch jealous at the ability compared to his own scarred skin. What impressed him, however, was Marcy's ability to overlook his appearance as she caressed his collar bone and arm, both of which were heavily burned. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he pulled away.

"I should go." He frowned at the brief pout that crossed her features, but smiled when she masked it with a disinterested leer. "I imagine they'd notice an invalid missing from his bed."

"I bet." Marcy stood, unconcerned with modesty as she slunk over to where she had set her purse that afternoon.

His gaze followed her, enjoying the view of her naked ass, as he stood. He picked his slacks up from the floor and slipped them on. When she returned, Peter was buttoning up his shredded shirt.

"Here." Marcy tossed him the key she had made, a smirk on her lips as she leaned against the cold door of the fridge. "Now you won't have to sneak through my window like a common serial killer."

Peter frowned as he held the key up. "And what, may I ask, made you go with the neon pink leopard print?"

"It reminded me of you." She replied with a tight, sarcastic smile and a bat of her eyelashes. "Don't you like it?"

The Alpha slipped it in his front pocket. "It's certainly colorful."

The woman winked at him as he brushed past her. "So, when can I expect you again, Pete?"

"I'll be back tonight." He paused at her door. "Work on your lying."

The woman nodded, ignoring the familiar flustered ache in her stomach as he left. It came often to her after sex. Not a physical ache so much as an emotional one that came with the knowledge of being used. Her mother had often told her that was the price for running around with older men. She pushed it to the back of her mind. Ignoring the sting in her eyes, Marcy got up and made her way to the bathroom to draw a bath.

**A/N: My fic officially has like, 8 reviews. Wow. It's sad how pleased that makes me.**


	12. She Blinded Me With Science

**A/N: Warning: Science. Also, thanks to all my reviewers, who bumped my number up to 15. I really needed that.**

As promised, Peter did return that evening. Instead of hooking her up to a car battery or ravishing her on the kitchen floor again, the two discussed - using actual words- what it was they should do about the people who killed his family.

"Well, what information do you have?"

"Not as much as I'd like…" Peter admitted. A smirk tugged at his lips as he went on in a docile tone, "But you certainly seem to have a knack for digging up privy information."

"It's called Google."

"I'm aware of what it's called."

Marcy shrugged as she tightened the braid she was working on. "Whatever. What is it you need from me exactly?"

"Can you get into police records? Look for anyone who has a history of arson, racketeering, that sort of thing?" The man asked, eying the damp neckline of her white tank top. When his gaze returned to her face, she was frowning at him. He smiled back impishly.

With a scoff, she stood. "Most of that stuff is public, so sure, I can run some names but it could take a while. What're you gonna do in the meantime?"

"Go over the family records." _Again_, he added mentally, but his Beta didn't notice. She was too busy jotting down what he was saying on a pad of paper. "See if I can find anything new."

"Sounds good." Marcy agreed, not looking up from the pad. She scratched her cheek absently before looking over to him. "Should I check just Beacon Hills or all the residential areas or…?"

Peter stiffened. The thought of them leaving town hadn't occurred to him. They could be in another state, another _country_ by now. He hardly heard her push off against the fridge. When she gently brushed his hair back, Peter leaned into her touch. With his head resting on her stomach, he told her, "Just Beacon Hills for now."

Cool hands cupped his cheeks, and Peter frowned when she tilted his head to look at her. Marcy's expression was grim, her full lips tight and blue eyes serious as she touched his burned cheek tenderly. "We'll get them, Pete. I promise."

"Such a good Beta." He praised with a proud (and sharply fanged) smile. With a nip to the inside of her wrist, the man pulled away.

The woman barely resisted the urge to ruffle his perfectly styled hair as he stood. He was only a few inches taller than her, but exuded an air of confidence that made it clear he was in charge. Marcy decided she liked that more than she reasonably should. A smirk settled on her lips as he peered down at her. With a cocked brow he asked her just what it was she was staring at. Instead of a sarcastic reply, Marcy opted for something much more forward. Batting her eyes at him, the Beta licked her lips and promptly shoved her hand down the front of his pants.

"Oh." Peter blinked and pushed one of the straps off her shoulder. "I see."

It was nearly dawn by the time the Alpha left Marcy to her own devices. It was becoming the norm, him leaving so that he wouldn't be noticed sneaking in and out of her home, so the woman didn't think much of it. Somewhere in the kitchen her phone was ringing, but she didn't bother rushing to answer it. Sliding a pair of dark satin panties on, Marcy hummed contently as she took a seat at her vanity. As she primped her hair, the answering machine kicked in.

"_Hi, it's Marcy, leave your name and message at the sound of the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

The werewolf rolled her eyes at the false cheeriness in her voice. Pinning her dark hair back into a half ponytail, she listened.

"_Hey, Marce, it's me__,__"_ Came her older sister's voice, earning a smile from the young woman as the vague sounds of a baby babbling could be heard over the line. "_I'm just calling to check in, see if you need anything."_

"Good old Carmen," Marcy praised to herself as she rimmed her blue eyes with a fine layer of kohl liner. "Always lookin' out me."

"_And I was just wondering what you were doing for Labor day weekend? I know it's kind of early, but Logan's coming and mom would like to see you-"_

Marcy sighed to herself as she rolled on some nude lipstick.

"_But most of all, I would. So book it off for me, okay? Okay. Love you, I gotta-" _A shriek of laughter followed over the line that was most certainly from her nephew and Carmen let out a groan. "_Go. Alright. Bye."_

Mumbling under her breath, Marcy dressed. It was her normal prim and proper shtick, with dark slacks and a yellow cardigan (despite the fact that it was early July) complete with virginal mini backpack purse. There wasn't much room in it, but she had managed to fit a mirror and her keys into it beside her dissection kit.

It was earlier than she planned, only seven in the morning, but it would give her a chance to grab a coffee before heading to the lab. Marcy skimmed the newspaper, noting that the local high school team had lost the lacrosse finals. Not that she gave a shit, she just found it odd that there was so little going on in town that a _lacrosse game_ warranted front page news. She shook her head. Sad, really. When it finally rolled around to eight, the young woman made her way down to the campus.

The lab was deserted, but she had expected that. In fact, she had planned on it. With classes over, Marcy had batted her eyelashes and pouted at her professor until he caved and handed over the keys. He made her promise to hand them over to the front desk as soon as she was done with them, and she had…after making a few copies of course.

Setting the dissection kit on the table, Marcy quickly pulled out everything that she would need: An electronic microscope (along with a small tube of purple dye), butterfly needles, along with their catheters and a few slides. She set up a small workspace, locked the door, drew the shades and heaved a large book out from underneath the long aisle of texts.

She let it drop next to the microscope with a frown. The title, _A Compilation of Cells_, leered back at her. With practiced fingers, she flipped through it until she landed on the Human example; a blood and DNA sample pictured.

Unfurling the butterfly needle's catheter, she pursed her lips as she skimmed the article. All and all, there wasn't much difference in human blood and animal, but she knew what she was looking for. Tying the tourniquet was a bit difficult to do single handed, but the woman hardly paid it any thought.

Without so much as a wince, Marcy slipped the needle into the vein in the back of her hand. The blood curled along the tube of the catheter, but she was more focused on the bizarre sensation of her skin trying to heal around the needle. She arched a brow as it was forced out, falling to the steel table to a light clink. Well. That was just disconcerting.

Unsettled, but far from deterred, she took a sample and dyed it. Letting a few drops fall onto the slide, the brunette closed it firmly before tucking it under the stage clips. Adjusting the dial with not-so-steady fingers, Marcy peered into the microscope. For the most part, her blood looked similar to that in the picture. The cells were red and round and…had a strange clear layer…and nuclei. She pursed her lips. No. That couldn't be right.

But it was. Her blood was evidently self-functioning, which would explain how quickly and seamlessly her cuts healed (and how it seemed at times that her blood actually sucked itself back into her body). It was almost like her blood had been replaced by stem cells.

Marcy jerked back. _Her blood had been replaced by stem cells_. Perhaps not the purest of stem cells, but clearly myeloid stem cells, cells that could potentially reproduce any organ. She thought back to what Peter had said about evisceration and electricity.

She supposed the bite had contained some kind of retrovirus that was replacing her DNA with that of a werewolf's. Unsheathing her claws, Marcy reached over and grabbed her mall probe and tried to scrap some of the thick nails onto another slide. Unfortunately, her nails were now apparently as hard as diamond and she only succeeded in snapping her probe in half.

With a huff, Marcy slammed it on the table. Drumming her claws absently, she tried to recall the other changes in her body; there was the strength of course, but that was hardly measurable via microscopes and test tubes. There were the claws and the healing and her eyes.

Marcy paused. Her _eyes_. Grabbing her stupid little bag off the table, she rustled around for her hand mirror.

A plain blue eye was reflected back at her. At her will, it glimmered into a sharp yellow. Without moving her gaze, she reached for the scalpel. With a steady hand, she raised it to her eye. Marcy took a deep breath and slowly dragged the sharp edge over her iris.

Blood dribbled over the scalpel as she willed herself to keep going. The pain wasn't what she expected, more like a burn than a cut as she sliced through the cornea. Tears poured from it, mixed with intraocular fluid as she finally reached the iris. With a delicate incision, Marcy cut a small portion of her uvea out.

She pulled the scalpel away, clamping her eyes shut as she took a few deep steadying breaths. Tears continued to slip from her injured eye, but after a few minutes she was able to focus on the microscope once again. Stranger still, but this Marcy was thankful for, her vision was completely clear. Perfect 20/20 vision.

With a shake of her head she peered down, eying the chromatic cells with interest. They were the same dark blue as her 'normal' eyes, although they were tightly condensed. Odd. When she went to adjust the light however, the cells expanded, morphing from the cobalt color to the shocking neon yellow she had expected.

A knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts and with a grin, she began to gather her things. The hour had passed quickly, but she had gathered way more than she had expected. She shoved her slides into her bag, along with a few butterfly needles.

"Just a sec!" She called as the knocking became a bit more aggressive. Marcy moved the microscope back to its place and put the science text back where she had found it. With a quick check in the mirror (not a hair out of place or so much as a hint of redness in her eye), she opened the door.

An annoyed looking man greeted her with a grunt and brushed past her. "You went over your hour."

"Sorry." Marcy chirped.

The young woman all but sprinted back to her apartment. She locked and shut her door behind her and put her backpack up on the fridge for safe keeping.

With some of her curiosity sated, it was time to start researching. Maybe if she got what Peter wanted he'd let her take a few samples…


	13. Jennifer

It was noon when Marcy arrived at the home. It was a brightly lit place, clean and spacious with a series of people, some elderly and some not in their right minds, bustling about. She stepped back to let one of them pass before she approached the front desk.

A pretty woman in her late thirties greeted her with a tired smile. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm looking for Peter Hale?"

The nurse blinked. "Oh?" she began to type something into her computer. "It seems Mr. Hale is one of our long term coma patients…may I ask what this is regarding?"

"His nephew asked me to check in on him." Marcy lied with a smile. "Derek?"

Another glance at the screen. The woman nodded. "Well, okay…"

"Thanks so much. I'll make it quick, I promise."

"Not necessary. I'm sure he'd appreciate some company." Her smile was sharp in a way the younger woman didn't appreciate. "I'm Jennifer. What'd you say your name was?"

"Marcy."

Jennifer nodded as she stood. "Marcy."

Slightly unsettled, she followed the nurse down a lone hallway. They stopped at a door near the end of it and Jennifer ushered her inside. The room was dreary, with closed curtains that were too thin to block the light. It gave the room a greyish tint and made the hospital bed seem so much more imposing. Peter was in a wheelchair that was pointed at the window.

It seemed a bit cruel considering the curtain was shut, but Marcy didn't comment as Jennifer placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll give you two a moment."

"Thanks." The brunette smiled tightly as the nurse closed the door. Exhaling, she sauntered over to the bed. Marcy took a seat on it, letting her bag fall as she spoke. "So. She's a little creepy."

"She's on a payroll," Peter replied, not looking away from where he was staring at the wall. "As long as she keeps her mouth shut, she can be as creepy as she pleases."

With a roll of her eyes, the young woman began routing through her bag. "So, I've got some suspects. But, only like, three because let's face it, this town is small as shit."

"Eloquent."

"Bite me."

"Already did. Questionable decision on my behalf…"

With a murderous glare, she stood. "Fine. If you don't want my help-"

"Sit down, Marcella." When she continued toward the door, Peter growled at her. The sound stopped her in her tracks. With a smug grin, he cooed at her, "Sit down, Marcella."

Spinning to face him, she crossed her arms. "I don't have to be so nice to you, you know. I can be a dick if I want to be."

"I know." The Alpha replied cooperatively. "Now, show me what you have."

Her gaze levelled at him as she sneered. "I'm not hearing a sorry, there, Pete."

"That's right, you're not."

With a huff, she went back to the bed. She dropped on to it casually, pulling out a small stack of notes from her purse as she spoke. "Well, don't start grovelling, Hale, it's unbecoming of a man."

Peter stayed silent. There was really no reason to dignify that with a response.

"Okay, I've gathered all the known arsonists," The woman crossed her legs to get more comfortable. Whoever designed hospital beds clearly never spent any time in the hospital. "Out of the fifty or so, I know right, such a small town for so many psychos," She winked at him, "No offense."

"Funny."

"Aren't I just? Well, obviously we can't go banging on the door of all of them-" When she saw him cock a brow, she frowned at him, "No, we can't, hear me out."

"Fine." He pursed his lips to repress a smile.

Marcy eyed him skeptically but went on, "So I crossed arson with some other things, you know, violent crimes like assault and battery, animal cruelty-"

Peter growled at her. Her blue eyes met his with a furrowed brow. "That's not a werewolf joke. Animal cruelty is usually a sign of a sociopath and let's face it, these guys are straight up murderers. It's not a far stretch."

"Hm."

"Anyway, that search narrowed it down to three suspects." She motioned him forward. Peter stayed right where he was, earning a scoff from her. "Seriously? You can't even wheel your Alpha-self over here?"

"I'm a coma patient."

"You're a douche. Anyway, three men fit the description." Marcy told him, her expression tight. "And I mean to a T. They've got all their bases covered."

"Are there pictures?"

At the flatness of his voice, she looked over at him. His stare was still focused on the window, his expression flat. Licking her lips, she shook her head. "I don't have them with me. I just copied the basics from the page. I still have to get their addresses, too."

"Hm." He looked over at her. "Good job."

She shrugged, sliding off the bed to sit in his lap. The hospital gown he wore crinkled under her weight, but the woman paid it no mind as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Now, I did you a favor," She grabbed her bag off the bed and set it in her lap. "Now it's your turn to do me one."

As she pulled out the needle, Peter arched a brow. "And what, may I ask, do you intend to do with that?"

"I'd like a blood sample."

"A blood sample." He blinked, raising a hand to brush the hair from her neck. "What for?"

"Well," Her face lit up. "I was in the lab this morning and I ran a few samples of my own, and Peter it's amazing!"

The Alpha blinked at her, a touch amused by her excitement. "And why is that?"

"Our bodies heal themselves on a molecular level!"

"I could've told you that."

She scoffed, flipping her dark hair and hitting him in the face with it. He didn't mind terribly, enjoying how free she was with her touch as she settled. "I know, but to see it, to see how my body has changed right down to my blood, is fascinating! And my _eyes_! I took a sample of my iris and-"

Peter held up a finger. He cupped her chin with it and tilted his head. "What do you mean you _took a sample_?"

"I sliced through the cornea and removed a few cells," Marcy shrugged. "No biggie."

"You cut out part of your eye." He corrected.

"It was for science."

"You cut out part of your eye, _for science_?" Peter asked with a hint of exasperation. "What would possess you to do such a thing?"

She blinked at him. "Because I wanted to see it. And I did. And it was awesome. My eyes have a thin layer between the cornea and the iris now, did you know that?"

"I did not," Her Alpha sighed, stroking her cheek idly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Listen. Now, in that layer is chromatic cells, so when they're constricted, they look like this." Marcy pointed to her left eye. "But when they expand…"

Said eye changed from dark blue to an unnatural yellow. Peter nodded, clearly unimpressed, "Very nice."

"It's the same as when certain lights hit it, or I feel certain emotions. Now, I don't know why this would be attributed to werewolves of all things, this isn't a part of lupine biology," She babbled, ignoring the amused smile Peter was wearing as she waved her hand, "It's predominately found in lizards, like the chameleon, but I've never heard of a were-lizard so I don't think I have anything to worry about."

"Fascinating.

With a faint blush, she slid off his lap. "Well, I thought so."

"I can see that." The smile that lit up his scarred features was considerably more genuine than his last. Marcy thought it was a step up from the typical smug smirk he gave her.

The woman beamed at him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I gotta go before Jennifer comes back." Her eyes went yellow again, "Who you better not be fucking by the way."

"I'm not."

"Good. Because I am so much hotter than her."

He nodded his agreement as she grabbed her purse. "So no blood sample?"

"I thought you said no?"

"I never said that," Peter watched her carefully, noting her surprised and ultimately pleased expression. "Next time."

Marcy nodded as she moved toward the door. "Next time."

As luck would have it, the next time ended up being that night. The young woman was in the middle of yet another tackily made horror classic, much to Peter's regalement. His eyes went from the screen to the blushing brunette. She refused to look at him.

"An American Werewolf?" He squinted at her. "_Really_?"

"I'm researching," Marcy replied, crossing her bare legs absently. She held her bowl of popcorn closer to her chest. "Stop judging me and sit down."

With a roll of his blue eyes, Peter fixed his jacket and did as he was told. She quickly settled her legs in his lap, stretching out across from him as she moved the popcorn to rest on her thighs. His hand slipped under her plaid boxers to rest on the inked skin above her knee.

"So, when's the next full moon again?"

"Couple days." The Alpha replied, enjoying the subtle shift of her hips as he trailed a claw over her tattoo. "We'll have to work on finding you an anchor."

Lifting a tired brow, his beta asked what exactly that entailed.

"Finding something to focus on during the change." He smirked, letting his fingers slid higher until they brushed her satin panties. "Do you remember what it was last time?"

"Apparently a deer." Marcy let her legs fall open as he found the apex of her sex. Biting her lip, she sighed contently, her head falling back against the arm rest as he slid her boxers down. "Why do all our meeting end like this?"

Peter crawled on top of her, one arm bracing himself against the back of the couch as his other hand pushed her t-shirt up. As her stomach came into view, he dipped down to place a tentative kiss to her navel. "End like what?"

"You on me in some manner."

Peter pulled back, a smile twisted over his mouth, "If I'm making you uncomfortable…"

"No, no, that's okay," She assured him, tangling her fingers in his dark hair and trying to entice him back to his easy affections with a whine. Peter however, chose to stay where he was, simply hovering over her as he dragged a claw down to the cleft between her legs. When he made no move to go any further, only tilted his head in waiting at her, Marcy huffed at him. "Ugh, you are such a tease."

"I'm not hearing a _please_, Marcella."

"No," she grinned, "You're not."


	14. Made Up Jealousy

Peter seemed to have little in the way of an anchor, thus, neither did Marcy. He was surprisingly casual about her first 'real' full moon, telling her as long as she stuck close by, she'd be fine. Apparently her bloodlust was not very high on his list of priorities, well, at least not nearly as high as her internet history.

"Why were you looking for a flight to Tokyo?"

Marcy glanced at him from where she was doing her make up. With a scoff, she pumped the brush of mascara into its holder. "My dad wanted me to visit him."

"In Tokyo?" The Alpha repeated with a hint of suspicion. His gaze swept over her undressed form, from her plaid boxers to her cotton bra.

"He travels a lot." She sniffed absently as she ran the brush over her lashes.

"Hm." Peter slunk off the bed. For a moment, he only stood behind her, fiddling with a strand of her hair as he spoke. "You wouldn't be thinking of running off on me, would you, Marcella?"

The woman scoffed at him, but didn't reply. He bent down to her level, peering at her through the mirror. His burned features were strikingly different compared to her smooth profile, which was only punctuated as he ran a scarred finger down her cheek. With a hint of warning in his tone, he tilted her face toward his, "Marcella."

"Peter." The Beta turned back to face him, expression taut and serious as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. Especially not with those air rates."

She finished her promise with a kiss to his cheek. Peter didn't catch a hint of deception in her scent, nor a spike of any other emotions beyond amusement. He nodded to her and let her kiss him again, this time on the mouth before she turned back to her vanity.

Marcy plumped her lashes some more as she went on, "Why the fuss? I'd only be gone a few days anyway."

"Packs are supposed to stick together," Peter told her, leaning against the cherry wood table that held her cosmetics. "We're weaker alone."

"Is that concern for me or you, there, Hale?"

"Can't it be both?"

The woman smirked as she set the tube of mascara down. Picking up her lipstick, she shrugged as he fiddled with her bra strap. "Stop that."

"Tease."

"Mongrel." She shot back playfully. Swiping the nude color over her bottom lip, she huffed as he bumped her arm. Marcy gave his shoulder a push, "I mean it, Pete, stop that or I'll have to start all over again."

"As much as I admire your need to impress me," Peter brushed her dark hair back over her shoulder, "There's really no need, considering the circumstances."

"Hey, don't slight a girl for wanting to be pretty for her Alpha."

"I would never."

His beta huffed as he plucked the lipstick from her hand. She watched as he set it down, his fingers fluttering over the array of powders and glosses before he picked up a dark shade of red. He pursed his lips as he rolled it out and held it to her face.

"This suits your coloring much better." He wiped the nude out with his thumb.

She grinned and opened her mouth as he tilted her chin up, "You know, I really wish you would've told me you were metrosexual before we started fucking."

"Oh?" He arched a brow, his eyes never leaving her full mouth as he asked, "Why's that?"

"Well, I wouldn't have to redo my makeup whenever you see fit."

"Yes you would."

"Not if I did it before you came over."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You would if I asked you to."

"You'd have to be a real asshole to ask a girl to change her make up on a whim." Marcy told him with a hint of a glare in her blue eyes. "And I happen to like the natural look."

"You look like a chastened schoolmarm with these colors."

"That's my look," She gave him a light push and a bright smile. "If you don't like it, get a new beta."

Peter offered her a wry smirk as he pulled away. As he put the cap back on, he watched her carefully as she primped her dark hair in the mirror. "How would you feel if I did?"

"Did what? Made another Beta?" Her eyes flashed yellow as she sneered, "It's not that fucking nurse is it?"

"Don't get testy."

"I am not getting _testy_. I just don't like her."

"Aw," The Alpha cooed sarcastically as he leaned to nuzzle their noses together, marking her with his scent. "You're jealous."

With a pout, she growled, "I am not jealous."

"Please, I can smell it all over you." Catching her hand, Peter nipped at the inside of her wrist. "It suits you and no. I didn't mean Jennifer."

The woman stood. Unwinding herself from his grasp, which proved more difficult than expected because apparently her moment of disquiet had put her Alpha in a rather handsy mood, Marcy sauntered over to her closet. "Good, I hate that bitch."

"I never would have guessed."

It only took a minute for her to get dressed. When she reappeared clothed in a simple black tank top and a pair of cut offs that left little to the imagination. She smoothed the material absently as he eyed her appreciatively. "Don't think this is for you. If I'm going to be running through the woods at all hours of the night, I'm not exactly going to be wearing my best."

Peter shrugged. He wasn't about to argue with her. With only a jerk of his head as indication to follow, the Alpha led her out of the apartment.

They had barely breached the boarder of the woods when Marcy began to feel the shift. Her vision sharpened in the darkness, her blood began to pump at an almost painful pace as her claws extended- cutting through her cuticles, speckling her palms with blood before they could heal. Her gaze drifted from them to Peter as he began to undress.

His scars shone a faint pink in the moon light and she could practically feel the waxy texture on her finger tips. A smirk rose to her lips at the sight of him folding his cloths, only to rest them on the moist ground. "Why'd you go with leather and Gucci for a romp through the woods anyway?"

"I had intended to get ready at your house…" His red eyes flitted over to her yellow, "but someone spent so much time primping that I didn't get the chance."

"Drama queen." The young woman huffed. The moon was high over their heads, and it wouldn't be long before she lost all control. Her skin was already getting hot and tight, stretching uncomfortably and making her want to snap and bite at anything that got too near.

Peter noticed, but didn't mention it. He could feel her irritation, the slight panic rising in her and relished in it a moment. The scent of fear was so agreeable with her… a shudder ran down his spine, one of the telltale signals of his oncoming change.

"Marcella?"

"Yes?"

He smirked at the growl in her voice as his fangs began to sprout. "You should be running."

With an throaty chuckle, his Beta did as she was told. His skin split painfully, separating as he grew into a monstrous form. Hair pushed its way out, his brow and nose forming a snout. His attention snapped to the woman as she darted through the trees, barely visible but the sound of her feet and pants were deafening to her Alpha as he let out a howl.

Marcy stumbled at the sound. Shock and fright making her knees weak, she barely managed to catch herself as her instincts took over. The urge to run fought the need to submit and ultimately prevailed the victor. As fast as she could managed, she ran. All she could hear was her heart pumping and the twigs under her feet snapping as she tried to get a safe place. Any place.


	15. Ties That Bind

Marcy awoke on a dusty floor of a decrepit house. An arm was wrapped firmly around her, holding her back tight to her Alpha's chest. He was awake; she could feel his eye lashes as he blinked, despite his breathing being even on the back of her shoulder. When the Beta shifted, Peter pulled her closer, his teeth biting into the bare flesh of her neck.

With a quick glance down at their entwined bodies, she was amazed to find her clothes still intact. Peter, of course, was naked. With an arched brow, she asked, "Mind letting me up?"

"No."

"No, you don't mind, or no, we're not going anywhere?"

For a moment, the man was silent. His fingertips, rough and warm, trailed down her arm as he murmured against her neck, "This is it."

"This is what?" Confused, she ignored the way his light touch sent shivers down her spine.

"Where it happened."

Marcy blinked and moved to sit up. When his grip only tightened, she did her best to face him. His burned features were only an inch from her clear ones, the pink skin horribly twisted in the dim light. "You mean the fire?"

Peter nodded. Ignoring the way her eyes softened at him, he shifted his gaze to the ruins around them. Voice numb, he continued to stroke her arm as he told her again, "This is it."

The Beta settled against his chest, her gaze more alert and awake than it had been. The house was large, but that was unsurprising. Supposedly eleven people had died in the fire, so it was only natural the house be big enough for them all. A few faint traces of paint could be seen, a peach color in the warm sunlight. A frown tugged at her lips as the man continued to touch her, his movements calm and robotic as he repeated the same motion, dragging his finger tips from her shoulder down her arm, in an almost hypnotic manner.

Her hand slipped behind his neck. Stroking his hair, Marcy shifted closer to him. As she nuzzled against his neck, she murmured, "We'll get them. All of them. I promise."

A low growl escaped his throat as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. His claws bit into her skin, but he continued his movements, leaving bloody lines in their wake. The woman let him mark her, the pain barely registering as she rested her head on his bicep.

"I have to get going," She muttered, not wanting to move from the comfort of his arms, "I'm meeting a friend for lunch."

Peter chuckled and fiddled with the strap of her tank top. "I didn't know you had any friends."

"Well, I'm not sure if friend is the right word. Chaperone might be better."

A puzzled grin tugged at his lips as he peered down at her. "You…you know you're an adult, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Marcy sat up reluctantly, stretching out her muscles. "But he helped raise me."

The man blinked at her. "Are…are you having lunch with your _nanny_?"

"He is not my nanny any more. Technically he's my driver."

"You have a driver?" The man asked with a hint of skepticism.

"Well, yeah, I don't have a license."

He stared at her a long moment. Finally, he snapped at her, "Who _are_ you?"

"Your ever loyal Beta," She teased with a grin. Peter frowned at her, clearly unimpressed with her response as she stood. With a soft touch, she brushed his hair back before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You worry too much."

Her Alpha offered her a wry smile before the two went their separate ways. For a few days, things were quiet for the pair. Peter continued to teach her the basics, focusing more on controlling a situation than lying, since she could now mask her emotions without resorting to seducing him. It was a more subtle art and frankly Marcy was considerably more comfortable with it. Mainly because it didn't involve any of her person being mutilated in anyway.

"Relax your stance," Peter tapped his chin as he circled her, occasionally pausing to adjust her posture. "It's all about how you hold yourself."

"It would be a lot easier to _hold myself_ if you didn't have me-"

"Yeah, yeah, tied up, I know." He put his hands on her hips, "that's the point.

Marcy let out a huff of annoyance, but dropped her hips in a nonchalant manner. It made the strain on her arms worsen, the dull numbness flaring to a sharp pain as she added more weight. Tilting her head back, she glared at the hook she was hung up on. "I can't believe you put that up- I'm never going to get my deposit back."

"I'm sure it's a financial burden you'll never get over," He mocked. Running a claw over her t-shirt, he cut along her bust line as he spoke in his typical arrogant manner, "it's all about exuding confidence. It can throw them off their game, plus if it's done genuinely, they may assume innocence."

Peter leaned over her, giving her cheek a brush with his stubbled cheek, as he went on, "And with your chaste way of dressing and a few crocodile tears, they might just let you go."

"And then what?"

"You rip them apart," He replied, the _naturally_ implied but not spoken. "Now, think you can get out of this?"

"I thought the idea was to charm my way out of it."

"It is," His gaze lifted to the knot of rope tied above her head. "But there's no guarantee that batting those pretty lashes of yours will work every time."

With a sigh, Marcy unsheathed her claws and began to scratch at the coarse bindings as her Alpha carried on.

"You're not going to be seeing much of me these next couple days…"

She let out a huff of laughter, twisting and yanking at the ropes as she told him, "I think I'll manage without you."

Peter gave her ass a sharp slap, but didn't stop his circling- the action both predatory and comforting as he smoothed his palm along her waist, "Let me finish. I've been told my nephew's been showing an inordinate amount of interest in me…"

The woman let out a quiet growl, "Jennifer?"

"You really need to let this jealous bit go, Marcella, it's unattractive."

"You love it," She teased. Her claw broke through one of the ropes and she nodded for him to continue.

Peter rolled his blue eyes, "If I'm completely honest, I'm surprised it's taken this long for him to come to town. I always thought him and Laura were quite close."

"You never did tell me what happened to her."

"Perhaps some other time," He deflected, ignoring her suspicious glare and unhappy pout. "He'll be looking for the Alpha. It's in our best interest if he doesn't find out it's me. For now."

The brunette arched a brow, but didn't ask. Instead she focused on getting down from her post. Frowning, she looked up as he ran his fingers over her breasts and sides.

"After we've taken care of our business, we'll seek him out," Peter pursed his lips, an amused smirk twitching at the burned corner of his mouth. "You won't be jealous of him as well, will you?"

"Only if he's prettier than me."

The Alpha cooed at her, marking her with his scent casually as he nuzzled at her neck. "You have nothing to worry about."

Marcy let out a distracted huff as she finally dropped down from her post. Peter eased her way, pressing her close to his sturdy form as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amusement twinkling in her dark eyes, she nudged her nose against his, "Damn right I don't."

"Next full moon," He said, tone quiet and almost aloof, "we go after Unger."

She straightened, her expression serious as she nodded. Jamie Unger was one of the two men they suspected to be involved in the fire.

"We'll have to find a way to lure him into the woods…can you do that for me?"

"I think I can."

"That's my girl." He cupped her cheek with a hand before dropping a rough kiss to her lips.


	16. Fools

Over the course of three weeks, Peter didn't see much of Marcy. She had proven herself to be quite capable of taking care of herself, following the routine he had laid out for her without question in his absence, much to his delight. She had switched her diet, taken to exercising regularly and extensively- mostly running. It amused him, knowing that if perhaps she had taken to that particular activity a bit sooner, than perhaps she wouldn't have wound up his Beta at all.

The thought almost saddened him. Peter had grown quite fond of her in the short time they had spent together. The younger woman had wormed her way into his affections with her offhanded and somewhat juvenile charm. Even her subtle air of mystery was sexy in its way, well, most of what Marcy was, was sexy in her way.

He smirked as he let himself into her apartment. The pink leopard print glinted in the dim light, but he paid it no mind as he slipped it back in his pocket. It was quiet and dark, the humid air of the outside replaced with air conditioned heaven. Peter slipped out of his shoes and jacket. He moved to her room silently, his bare feet remarkably light as he slipped inside.

Unsurprisingly, Marcy was sound asleep on her stomach. Dark hair fanned out around her, she let out a quiet moan when his knees sunk into the mattress, framing her carefully. A smile flickered across his lips and he ran a finger over the pale skin of her bare back before he leaned down.

"Marcella…it's time to get up," He sang mockingly as he ground his hips into her ass.

The woman peeked an eye open with a huff. "No. It's like, three a.m, get off me."

"As much as it pains me to deny a woman her beauty sleep, we have more pressing matters at hand, wouldn't you agree?"

"You did _not_ just wake me up for a booty call," she glared at him as she rolled on to her back. Her hands fell to his thighs, but her gaze remained cold despite her smile, "Because honestly? That would be really lame, Pete."

Her Alpha rolled his eyes at her, resting his weight on her hips as he brushed her brown curls from her breasts. "Of course not."

His nails ghosted over the soft skin, electing a shudder from the younger werewolf. "Did you find him?"

Marcy nodded soundlessly, arching into his gentle touches as he tugged at her peaked nipples, each stroke of the pad of his thumb making her shift wantonly underneath him.

"And?"

"And what?" Her eyes fluttered and she let out a huff as he took his hands away. With a frown, she sat up, "You fucking tease."

Peter smiled maliciously at her, the burned side of his face stretching painfully as he did. "All in good time. Now, tell me everything."

The Beta patted his thighs and he eased off of her. The woman sat up, threw her hair of her shoulder and leaned back against her cherry wood head board. Her fingers stroked it gently, a pout forming on her lips as she sighed, "If I have to the dirty work, don't you think I should at least get a shot at this guy?"

"Marcella. We've been over this," Peter reminded her, his tone warning and sharp. "You're not ready yet and I don't want to have to look out for you in case anything goes wrong."

Marcy glared at him. He leered back at her. Trailing his hand over her inked thigh, he sighed as he nuzzled against her neck, "You don't have the control yet. I can't risk you going off the handle before I get my hands on Unger…"

Begrudgingly, she muttered, "I know."

He kissed her softly before pulling away. Glowing gaze locked on hers, he repeated, "Tell me."

She nodded and told him how it had been relatively easy to find the arsonist. He had been at a cafe, only a few blocks from her apartment. The woman winced as her Alpha dug his claws into her thighs, but continued. "I went up to him, asked him if he'd be interested in going to a rave tomorrow night. He said yes."

Peter pursed his lips. "That's it? How do you know he'll-"

"Trust me," Marcy smiled sadistically, "he'll come."

"Why, Miss Tucker," The Alpha leaned forward, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. Giving it a sharp nip, he cooed, "You didn't make any unladylike promises to the boy, did you?"

She scoffed at him, "Of course I did."

"That's my girl."

Marcy rolled her eyes, but visibly perked up at the praise. "Next time I'm not letting you off so easy, Hale."

"Next time you'll be ready." He cupped her cheek firmly, his gaze softening as she leaned into his touch. "I'll make sure of it."

"That's lovely. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Peter grinned at her and nodded. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead(which earned him a faint blush) before he moved off the bed. Yellow eyes glowed up at him in the darkness. Without a word, Marcy hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and gave it a soft tug.

The man paused. This could be trouble. He knew he and Marcy didn't have the typical Alpha/Beta relationship. He knew she wasn't trying to gain anything, because frankly, she was rather naive to the ways of his world. His hand slid over her own, thumb rubbing her wrist. She had no real idea of how packs worked beyond what Peter had told her. She was coming to him because she wanted him now, not because her Alpha was using pheromones or manipulating her. Briefly, he wondered if that mattered anymore as he slid onto the bed, his nose brushing hers as her hands slid up to his shoulders, rubbing them tenderly as she kissed him.

He should have been the instigator, not the one leaning in to her touch, not the one reveling under her affections as she mouthed at the burned skin of his neck. The sensation made his eyes flutter and a low groan slipped from his lips as she pulled the hem of his shirt from his jeans. She had eased onto her knees, making them almost eye level, as she undid the buttons. Peter watched her carefully, but the woman didn't notice, her eyes never straying from his burned skin as she caressed the deep scars gently. Vaguely, he wondered if she'd still want him if their positions were reversed; if he the subordinate Beta and she the predatory Alpha. Her hands stilled as his shirt fell to the floor.

A low, mournful keen escaped Marcy's throat at the sight of his scarred torso. Carefully, she leaned down to kiss one of the thicker burns along his ribs. Shifting closer to her, he let her ease him on to the bed and didn't put up a fight as she straddled him. Blue eyes gazed down at him fondly, her finger tips working over his skin, taking in the vast difference on the left and right sides of his chest and face. Cautiously, they trailed up his neck and Peter let his head fall back. Exposing himself like this, exposing his _throat_, by some could be seen an act of submission. He sighed as she stroked from his Adam's apple to the stubble of his chin softly. It had been a lot time since he had been able to trust someone, but she had passed every test he had thrown at her and he couldn't find a reason to deny her, nor himself, the simple pleasure of touch.

"Pete?" Marcy's voice was low, barely a whisper against his ear as she scented his cheek.

"Hm?"

He felt her shift closer to him, the pebbled flesh of her nipples dragging against his chest as she asked, "You're going to be careful, right? I mean, if anything goes wrong-"

"Nothing's going to go wrong." Peter brushed some of her dark brown hair from her shoulder, eyes half lidded and tired. "You worry too much."

The woman frowned, the expression heavy on her soft features, "But if it does…you'll get out of there, right?"

The Alpha blinked passively at her. With a surprising amount of care, he brought his hand up and cupped the back of her neck. Without a word, he pulled her to his chest. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair to rest on her shoulder blades. Her skin was smooth and untouched, warm under his hand as he stroked his thumb over the bone beneath.

Knowing she wasn't about to get an answer from him, the woman settled there, content to be close to him. As frustrating as he was, she had grown rather fond of him over the few weeks they had spent together. Her gaze fell to his burns and she absently smoothed over them with a soft touch. Hopefully he knew what he was doing.

Marcy was surprised, to say the least, when Peter was still there the next morning. He was very casually going through her underwear drawer. Again. The woman reached over and tossed a bottle of lotion at him. It bounced limply off his back, but got the desired result. With a frown, he turned to face her.

"Stop rifling through my panty drawer, Hale, it's creepy."

"I was not _rifling_." The Alpha rolled his eyes and held up a flask. "I was looking for something."

Scoffing, she slid off the bed. As she stretched, she made her way over to him with little care for modesty. Nimble fingers plucked the metal canister from him. Holding it up, she smirked at him, "does someone need to start attending AA? Because I am not responsible enough to be a sponsor."

"It's not alcohol and if it was, it would only be because you drive me to drink." Peter plucked it from her grasp, a smile on his lips. As she began to dress(in a ragged white t-shirt and a pair of boxers- both of which she had gotten from her floor), he went on, "This, my dear Marcella, is Mountain Ash."

"You just leave these things around my house? Don't you smirk at me, Hale." Rolling her eyes, she led him out to the kitchen. "Let's sprinkle it on some toast and have a really small Jonestown thing go on."

"Funny."

She shot him a saucy grin, "I bet it'd freak out the local law enforcement."

"Is this what you do when I'm not around?" The man asked curiously, watching with a hint of a smirk as she fluttered about the kitchen, gathering glasses and bowls for them, "plan your apparent suicide and think up ways to annoy the police?"

For a few seconds, she stared blankly at him. "Well, yeah, what do you think about?"

"You are most definitely not responsible enough to be a sponsor," He told her, covering the second glass with his hand to prevent her from pouring any orange juice. "Eat quickly. I have to go soon."

Marcy blinked at him with a puzzled laugh. "So, go. I don't need an audience."

"I can't go until you get back in your room."

Hesitantly, she asked, "Why?"

Grinning, Peter held up the flask.


	17. The Pack Grows

Marcy crossed her arms as she watched her Alpha clamp the shackle around her ankle shut. "This seems a little…"

"Don't say extreme," He warned her offhandedly, then moved on to the next without another word. She sighed in annoyance, but didn't resist. With a smirk, he went on, letting his nails skim the back of her leg as he spoke, "It won't be so bad. It's only a few hours."

"Of being non-sexually chained to a bed," The Beta flopped back onto her mattress with a huff. He nuzzled against the pale skin of her thigh, his stubble scratching her lightly before he stood. The woman's gaze softened at him, but she didn't sit up, or even move as he moved away from her, "Are you sure you're going to be able to handle this alone?"

"Positive," Peter told her. He pulled out his flask and held it up for her to see, "If everything goes according to plan, it should take less than an hour."

The woman pouted as he moved out of her room. With pursed lips, she watched him spread a thin, even line of the powder across the entrance. "I still can't get over the fact that you just casually leave chains and poisonous shit around my house."

He glanced up at her, a twinkle in his light eyes that earned a scowl from her.

"Don't you smirk at me, Hale."

Naturally, things did not go according to plan. The forest was crawling with police and their dogs, which had spooked Unger off. Apparently, someone had found part of Laura and he cursed himself for not being more careful with the body. But all was not lost, as he did find himself a new Beta(even if it was an unplanned one, but considering what a joy young Marcella had turned out to be, Peter was hardly worried). A young man, most likely still in his teens, if he had to guess…admittedly, that wouldn't have been his first choice, but he supposed they would have to make due.

When he returned to Marcy's apartment, she was right where he'd left her- although the Change had taken it's hold and she was listlessly yanking and kicking at the chains that held her to the bed. Yellow eyes snapped to him as he crouched down. Expelling a huff of air from his lips, he broke the line of Mountain Ash and crossed it. She snapped at him, growling and clawing at her ankles. The skin was raw and red from the shackles and Peter let out an empathetic tut. The man rubbed her head to calm her. The woman's fangs caught the Alpha's thumb and she licked the drying blood off it with a whine.

"There's my girl," Peter smirked absently, stroking her hair with careful fingers.

The Beta's eyes fluttered at the touch, but only a moment before she began to growl at him. He tapped her nose with a claw, leaving a shallow scratch before pulling back to unchain her. Marcy didn't kick at him like Peter expected, but the moment the shackles hit the floor she pounced. The Alpha winced as her arms circled his neck and her legs his waist, knocking him roughly to the plush white carpet. To his surprise, Marcy's touches were not violent, but rather just the opposite. Her lips sucked and kissed at his neck, lingering over his pulse while she nuzzled her cheek against his burned jaw. A smirk tugged at his mouth, enjoying the sensation of her body, firm and hot, pressed against him. One clawed hand cupped the back of her neck and Peter firmly pulled her back.

In a honeyed voice, the man practically cooed at her, "Marcella…? Is anybody home, pet?"

The Beta huffed at him, pressing her pelvis against his with a keen as he stroked her neck. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise and with a smirk, Peter watched humanity come back to her. A vexed, almost pained expression crossed her face, her brow crinkling and the yellow in her eyes dying as he smoothed her hair back from her sweat covered brow. She slumped against him with a soft sigh of contentment. He let out a quiet chuckle, one that rumbled from his throat and into her hair.

"I have to go soon."

Marcy scented his cheek before she pulled away. Heart shaped features tired and sallow from a night without rest, she nodded, "okay," then tightened her hold on him, "five more minutes."

Peter brushed her chocolate brown hair back with a pensive frown, "I didn't get Unger."

"Next time." She blinked slowly, her voice strong and sure despite her weary physique. When he nuzzled against her, the Beta brushed her finger tips along his blood stained lips, "whose this then?"

"Your new pack mate," He told her with a grin. Her eyes flashed at him and he was quick to ease her building envy, "he's young and apparently asthmatic, but I think he has potential."

With a sparkle of intrigue in her eyes, she asked, "how young?"

Peter squinted at her with a hint of jealous malice, "too young for you to play with."

Marcy giggled, tickling his neck as she buried her face there. Fingers eased down her back, following the trail of her spine over her white t-shirt until they reached the hint of skin just above her cotton panties. With a swallow, she asked her Alpha if things were going to be different. Now that he had another Beta to rely on, now that she had to share him with someone else. She kept the last part to herself and silently cursed her sentimentality.

"Not between us," Peter assured her.

On the bedside table, her alarm began to beep. The sound was grating and impossibly loud, so soon after the full moon. The man shot it a dirty look as she eased out of his lap. At his perplexed look, she explained, "first day of classes."

"Ah." He stood, ignoring the ache of his erection pressing against his zipper as he followed her into the bathroom. She ran a brush through her thick hair, ignoring his eyes on her as he spoke, "Did you book the green house like I told you to?"

"Yep," Marcy told him, reaching for her straightener as she went on, "I got the seeds off the internet and everything should go just fine, provided some of the freshmen don't think they have seniority."

Peter smiled with pride as he slipped behind her. "That's my girl."

The Beta gave his hips a light slap. "I'm not fucking you before school, Pete, I have some standards you know."

Without a word, he ground himself against her ass and watched her eyes flutter in the mirror as she picked up on his heady, needful scent. A light giggle left her throat as he pushed her hair from her neck.

"Seriously, I am not going to class with moist thighs-"

A shudder coursed down her spine as he stroked the line of her panties.

"Not on the first day."

Peter smirked, his eyes flashed a devilish red as he licked a strip up her neck, following the thumping vein to her jaw.

"Pete, please, I mean-oh…" Her hips snapped against his hand as he trailed his fingers over the cleft of her underwear, the damp spot making him smug as he nudged her clit with a clawed thumb through the material.

"Come on, Marcella…don't be coy…"

"I hate you," The woman whined, eyes screwed shut as her Alpha snickered in to her hair, "I really, really have to go to class today, Hale."

He grinned at her, his burns pulling awkwardly against her skin. "Of course, I would never get in the way of your education."

With a groan, she spun around to face him. Stripping out of her shirt, she let a grin slip through the cracks of her annoyed mask, "Ugh! Fine, let's do this, but make it quick!"

Unbeknownst to them, as Peter's other Beta was getting ready for school, his nephew had just rolled into town in a Camaro.


	18. Old Friends and New

Peter kept his face skillfully blank as his nephew, his only living relative-if you didn't include his Betas- sat down on his hospital bed. Derek was sullen, clearly distressed about the death of his sister as he explained that she had been found torn apart in the woods.

"They said she'd been murdered…I mean, I hadn't been able to feel her in the past couple months, but I was hoping…" His hazel eyes fell to his knees, "maybe she'd found a new pack or something."

Derek sighed, inhaling deeply and something in his posture changed. With a hint of confusion, the Beta leaned forward and sniffed his uncle. Stiffly, he reached over and grabbed the call button for Jennifer, who arrived in a manner of seconds.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Hale?"

"I was just wondering…has my uncle had any visitors today?"

The brunette blinked at him, a brow finely arched as she shook her head, "No…not that I know of."

"Hm." Derek stood, tucking his hands into his leather jacket. "Well, if he has any, you should give me a call."

"I certainly will, Mr. Hale. Is that all?"

The young man glanced at Peter and, perhaps realizing he wasn't going to get a response out of him, sighed. "I think so."

Jennifer offered him a pacifying smile, "Very well, shall I show you out?"

"No, I can manage…you'll tell me if he has any visitors?" The Beta repeated, still frowning tightly as he was ushered toward the door.

The woman barely resisted the urge to sigh at him. Instead, she continued to smile, although it was a touch colder than before as she nodded, "I promise."

"Okay. Thanks."

The brunette watched as he ducted out of the hospital room, leaving her alone with Peter. She waited until her 'patient' relaxed, signifying that the young man was out of ear shot. With a fake and rather nasty grin, she leaned over him and whispered, "Maybe next time you should take the time to wash the little whore off your dick before you get us both caught."

Jennifer flinched as his hand shot out. A choked sound left her throat as he strangled her, his red eyes narrowed into her brown. With sharp fangs, he breathed "Don't."

"She's a liability." The woman hissed through clenched teeth. Vainly, she clawed at his wrist, trying to get him to let go.

"She's my Beta." The Alpha sneered at her, face disturbingly close as her gaze dropped to his razor sharp teeth, "Any disrespect to her is a disrespect to me, Jenny."

Jennifer jerked back as he released her. Rubbing her neck, where a small trickle of blood was pooling at the hollow of her throat, she glared at him. Her thin lips pursed tight, she nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Jenny?"

The nurse rolled her eyes, but turned to look at the man in the wheelchair.

"I'll be taking my Jello now."

"Ugh."

On the campus across town, Marcy was pulling off a pair of sullied gardening gloves and hanging up her lab coat. Beside her, a man of perhaps thirty with shaggy blonde hair was doing the same. She noticed him watching her out of the corner of his eye, but she didn't address him. The petite brunette just fixed her collar and walked out of the lab, her head held high and the typical _not quite innocent_ sway in her hips. A smirk tugged at her mouth when she heard him swallow. Apparently super human hearing really did have its perks, at least for her ego.

The man fumbled behind her, before the sound of padding feet hit her ears. Soon enough he was beside her. He met her in three long strides. He cleared his throat, "Hi."

"Hi," Marcy smirked, but let the word hang in the air as she approached her locker.

"Wolfsbane, huh?"

Blue eyes glanced up at the man. He was tall and somewhat lanky, somewhere over the six foot line and she had to crane her neck up to see his face. His dark eyes were warm, if not a little curious as he peered down at her patiently. With a hint of a laugh, he asked, "goin' after some werewolves?"

"Excuse me?"

His cheeks turned a fiery red, "Lame joke, sorry."

Marcy eyed him with amusement, her panic suppressed for the moment, before she turned back to her locker. "Mhm."

"I'm Noel." He stuck his hand out to her, a hesitant smile on his full lips, "Looks like we're going to be sharing the lab this semester."

The woman shook it, noting how bony and slim his fingers were, and introduced herself. Pulling the high ponytail from her hair, she fluffed the dark strands in her mirror as she spoke in a casual, almost careless tone, "what were you saying about vampires?"

"Werewolves," The blonde man corrected with a grin(which made his admittedly boyish features light up in a way Marcy found endearing- but more in the way one would view a puppy than a man) and a quick bend of his knees, "you know, when the wolfsbane blooms and the full moon is shining bright…?"

She just stared at him.

"The Wolfman?" When she turned back to her mirror, he sighed, "Never mind then."

Marcy pulled her hair into a half pony tail as she spoke, "I'm not sure about werewolves, but the flowers are pretty, and it has a considerable amount of medical uses."

"It does?" Noel's brow arched delicately, clearly more interested in the woman than the topic at hand, "I thought it was just a poison."

"Mhm, especially in folk medicine. It's mostly used to treat inflammations like asthma or croup, that sort of thing." She shut her locker with a firm _click_, and then locked it.

The man blinked. "Oh."

"Yep, interesting stuff," Marcy smiled pleasantly, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with her lab partner, "You were planting _Nepeta cataria_, right? Catnip?"

"In layman's terms, yeah, I was." His cheeks colored again, a soft pink against his olive skin as he shrugged, "I just like cats."

She nodded and smiled indulgently, "perfectly acceptable reason."

An easy grin rose on his face. Noel nodded, a bit flustered, "I thought so."

"I was just on my way to lunch, care to join me? In a completely plutonic, get to know your study buddy type way, of course."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

They were in the middle of discussing the prospects of their professor's love life(and who it could be he was constantly on the phone with) when she got the call. Noel, in an attempt to give her some privacy, slipped out of the booth to get them another round of coffee as she flipped open the cell phone. An unfamiliar number flashed back at her, but she hit answer without second thought.

"Hello?"

"Marcy, darling."

A shudder ran up the woman's spine at the familiar, seductive tone of Samuel Dreg's voice. Her throat closed as her grip on the phone tightened. The man went on, no doubt having enjoyed her gasp of surprise.

"How've you been? Feels like it's been forever since we spoke."

"Fine…" Marcy cleared her throat, irritated by the hitch in her voice. "I'm just fine."

"That's good to hear." Samuel's voice was little more than a purr over the line. "I hear you're in school?"

"Yeah, almost two years now."

"And you're enjoying it? Seemed to me you always needed to be the center of attention, at least you did when you were young."

The brunette felt her hackles rise, but kept her tone light, "Is there a reason you called, Sam? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Just checking in. Seeing if you needed anything."

"Well, I don't. Thank you."

The curt dismissal made him snicker. "Why so eager to move this along? I remember a time when you needed me-"

"I never _needed_ you, Dreg."

"Please. You've always been the submissive one, darling, nothing to be ashamed of." The man let out a sigh, almost mournful as he went on, "I was just making sure you're alright. Feels like it's been ages since I last saw you."

Marcy tucked her fingertips into her palm as her claws slipped out. "That's really unnecessary."

"Isn't it?"

"I'm a big girl, Sam. I can look after myself."

"Are you now?" The air of amusement in his voice seemed to darken a moment, "Don't need a man to keep you in line anymore?"

Her mind flickered over to Peter, but she kept silent. He was trying to goad her, trying to get in her head. Swallowing, she asked him rather bluntly what it was he wanted.

"I hear you're out in California."

"Yep," Marcy leaned back in her chair as Noel returned. He slid a coffee over to her with a wink as she went on, "Beacon Hills."

"Perhaps I'll swing by some time. I'm in Europe for the next couple months, but I suppose after the tour I could make an arrangement to come see you. Have dinner and reminisce."

The woman bit the inside of her cheek, "sounds wonderful."

"Splendid," Samuel cooed over the line. "I'll see you then, pet."

"Mhm." Marcy hung up. Her chest was tight and aching with the strain of keeping her wolf in check, her blood boiling as she thought of his words. Like she had ever needed him, that conceited retch…her heart ached a moment, her mother's words coming back to her; _that's what you get for chasing after older men_.

Across from her, Noel arched a brow at her dazed expression, "Everything alright, Marce?"

"Fine," She told him briskly. "What do I owe you for the coffee?"

"3.65, if this was a date…" He grinned suggestively, his boyish features handsome and sweet as he took a sip of his latte.

"Which it totally isn't."

"Too bad," He held his hand expectantly, his smile never wavering, "that's a steep price for black coffee."

"I have…someone."

"Ah, no worries then," Noel waved his hand, grin still natural and warm on his full lips. "Consider it a token of friendship."

Marcy smiled more genuinely at him. "Thanks."

"No problem."

**A/N: Derek. Yum.**


	19. Deceiving Derek

When Marcy got back to her apartment, the first thing she did was fish the bottle of vodka out of the back of her freezer. She then poured a shot, knocked it back and poured another. This one she didn't drink immediately. Instead, she tucked the bottle under her arm and went to the living room.

Her cell phone beeped and she flipped it open without looking at the name, "Hello?"

"Marcella."

"Peter," She greeted absently as she sat down on the couch. Idly licking some of the vodka off her fingers as it ran down the shot glass, Marcy went on, "What'd you need?"

There was a pause over the line. For a brief moment, the Beta wondered if they had been disconnected, but her Alpha's smooth, curious tone cut back in, "Is everything alright?"

"Peachy."

"Hm…well, as interesting as whatever little crisis it is you don't want to talk about is, we have a problem."

"Which is?" Marcy took her shot and dropped the empty glass to the coffee table in front of her with a hollow _clink_. Tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she began to unscrew the bottle as he went on.

"My nephew's back in town."

"Derek."

Peter made an affirming noise. "I think he suspects something."

"Like what? I thought you were still playing your coma card," the woman poured herself another shot and leaned back against the black suede of the couch. Kicking her feet up, she sipped at her vodka. She flexed her toes, eyeing them with a frown. She really needed to touch up the black nail polish that adorned them and made a note to do so later as she waited for him to speak.

Tone inexplicably light, he affirmed, "I am. That's not the problem. He smelt you on me."

Resisting the urge to laugh, she pursed her lips a moment. She hadn't met Derek as of yet, but the image of a young man sniffing at her Alpha like a curious puppy made her snicker. The idea of him finding out about her before they were ready, however, was far less amusing. Frowning, Marcy asked, "Would he be able to tell if I was a werewolf? If I was right in front of him, I mean."

"Not with your knack for pheromones…" Peter told her, the hint of praise in his voice making her cheeks warm. "You could probably throw him off if you wanted to. Why, what did you have in mind?"

With a grin, she told him her idea. She did this while drinking straight from the bottle. The plan was relatively simple, relying more on timing than complexity and Peter agreed to it without second thought.

"Just call me when he shows up and I'll duck out of class," Marcy told him, peering down the mouth of the bottle with a frown, "and also, fuck you for not telling me I'm unable to get wasted."

"My deepest apologizes." He told her with not so much as a hint of remorse in his stoic voice, "I didn't realize you were such a lush, Marcella."

She scoffed at him, "Whatever."

"I'll be seeing you, keep your phone close by." Peter hung up without another word.

Barely resisting the urge to crush the phone in her hand to dust, the woman took a deep breath and decided to run a bath instead. She dumped what was left of the vodka into the tub and sighed. Maybe if it soaked through the skin she could get a decent buzz going.

Evidently, it didn't work, judging by the fact that she woke up the next morning without a hint of a hangover. With a bitter scowl, Marcy got ready for class. It didn't take long, little more than ten minutes and soon enough she was on her way out the door to the local coffee shop. It was packed, filled with annoying humans and frustrated looking baristas. Not feeling the need to socialize, the Beta decided to forgo her morning shot of espresso and made her way to class with her claws digging into her palms.

Marcy had literally just stepped foot inside the green house when Jennifer called her. Instead of an actual greeting, not that the Beta had expected one, the nurse told her in a clipped tone, "I've just been informed that Derek Hale is on his way."

"How the hell could you possibly know that?" The brunette asked as she tucked her books under a bench. "Did you slip a tracking device on him or something?"

"Funny," the woman replied, tone tense and clearly unamused, "it's policy that family members of long term care patients call in before they visit. Especially if they haven't visited for a long period of time."

"I'm on my way, has Peter-"

"He has."

Marcy felt her eyes flash as she made her way back down to the campus. It was bustling with people, loud, obnoxious people, and she felt her teeth ache with the need to extend. "Good. Thanks, Jen."

"It's Jennif-"

The Beta hung up and typed a quick message out to Clayton. For a man in his late sixties, Vernon Clayton was not a slave to stereotypes; at least of all when it came to driving. He arrived less than five minutes after she called, burning rubber and wearing a wide grin as he stepped out of the cherry red 1958 Plymouth. At 6'3 and two hundred and fifty some odd pounds of tattooed muscle, Vernon 'Clay' Clayton was hardly a man to be reckoned with, least of all when it came to Marcy, her siblings and his car. Especially his car. Which he had openly admitted to loving more than his wife on several occasions(and twice while sober).

With a mockingly formal bow, he kissed her hand, "Miss Corance."

"Clay." She beamed at him, happy to have a familiar face after a long couple days. The two embraced in a quick hug(which involved him lifting her a clear foot off the ground) before he opened the door for her. Marcy buckled up and pulled down the passenger visor. She pulled out a tube of nude lipstick and swept it over her bottom lip as her caretaker started the engine.

"Where to, dear?"

Primping her dark hair, she asked him, "Do you know where the long term care facility is?"

"Sure…" he arched a grey brow at her. When she only smirked in reply, Clayton sighed, "Sometimes I worry about the stunts you get up to, Mars."

With a giggle, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek, "you should."

"Yeah, yeah…I hear you got yourself a little boyfriend."

"What? Slander and lies, I promise you," An impish smile crossed her full lips as Clay chuckled.

He eyed her skeptically, bright blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he let out a hum of doubt. "Logan's never struck me as the lyin' type, darling."

"You've clearly forgotten the phone calls we got from his second grade teacher."

"Mhm…and you blew off Carmen," His tone turned a touch serious, "that's not like you."

Marcy let out a quiet sigh, "I know."

"Your mom was pissed. Mostly because she had to hear about Victor's bitching," He shot her a sharp, sardonic smile that made her smirk as he went on, "Apparently you're quite the irresponsible little slut, Miss."

The woman's brows rose as they pulled into the facility parking lot. The idea of her uptight stepfather using colorful language put a smile on her lips. "He called me that? Huh. I didn't know he had it in him."

"Well, you know how those Baptists get when they get some hard lemonade in 'em," Clay winked at her and asked if she wanted him to wait for her as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"Do you mind? Better yet, why don't you pick a place and I'll take you out for breakfast."

Her driver nodded and reached over to get a newspaper out of the glove box in front of her, "Sounds good. Take your time."

Marcy got out of the Plymouth, righted her baby blue cardigan, smoothed her tweed skirt and made her way into the care center. She slipped past the front desk with ease, the nurse behind the counter not looking twice at her(she didn't exactly exude _threat_, at least in appearance) and made her way down to Peter's room. Even in the busy hall, she was able to catch the one side conversation going on in her Alpha's room. The voice, which the woman supposed belonged to Derek, was gruff and deep, so unlike his uncle's smoky, smooth tone. Knowing he could no doubt hear her approaching, she kept her heart beat steady as she finally reached the door. Without hesitation, she opened it.

"Oh!" Marcy gave a false start at the sight of the young man, her doe blue eyes widening, "I'm sorry, I didn't know Mr. Hale had company…"

Derek's eyes narrowed for a brief second as he stood. "No, no, it's fine."

"I can come back-"

"I was just leaving," The young man paused in front of her, his gaze sharp and predatory as he took in her scent. Marcy swallowed and shifted slightly, her posture shrinking away from him and her scent taking on a nervous twinge. When he noticed it, Derek smiled disarmingly, "I'm sorry, but who are you, exactly?"

"Oh, um, Marcy," The Beta forced a blush, but didn't relax her stance as she shifted from foot to foot, "Peter's massage therapist. And you?"

"Derek Hale," He arched a thick brow at her, his hands tucking into the back pockets of his jeans. "I didn't know he had a massage therapist."

"Well, technically I'm not a massage therapist yet," She beamed at him, bright and innocent, "I've been doing my volunteer work here for the past six months."

"Any response?" Derek asked, tone light and filled with a casual curiosity that she knew was rife with underlying desperation.

If she hadn't had keen werewolf senses, no doubt she would've missed it. Her pretty features fell accordingly, "not yet. But I'm hopeful! These things take time, ya know."

"And how much time have you given him?"

"Well, I got his guardian's permission maybe six months ago," Her dark eyes met his with a bit of absent concern, "why? Laura hasn't changed her mind, has she?"

His Adam's apple hitched, his posture stiffening ever so slightly at his sister's name, "Not that I know of."

"Oh, good," Marcy smiled again, exuding relief and happiness, "Peter's definitely the easiest patient I've dealt with so far."

When her face turned a terrible shade of red and she began to stutter apologies, Derek waved her off with a grin, "Don't worry about it. Massage therapy…what exactly are you hoping to achieve?"

The woman ruffled slightly at that, "Massage can be very effective when it comes to circulation and strengthen muscles-"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Derek told her, clearly surprised by her sharp tone and angry pout. "It's just…he's been in a coma for six years."

Marcy's smile returned, albeit a sad one, "I heard and I'm sorry. Are you his son?"

"Nephew. What," Derek licked his lips, his gaze flickering over to where Peter sat, motionless as always, "what are his chances? Of recovery I mean."

"It's really not my place to say…I don't know anything about his vegetative state." She lifted a helpless shoulder, "I'm really only hoping for some minor movement at this point. You know, any sign is better than none type thing."

"And there hasn't been any signs yet?"

"It's a slow process, Mr. Hale."

Frustrated, Derek rubbed his brow. Marcy pursed her lips and placed a hand on his elbow. The younger man sighed and nodded, "I know." Steeling his features into a blank mask, he nodded to her, "I should let you get to it. It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise. I'll be sure to call with any news, Mr. Hale." She smiled compliantly as he brushed past her. Her shoulders slumped as Derek shut the door and a wicked grin crossed her lips as she approached her Alpha, "Good morning, Peter. How was your night?"

Peter rolled his eyes at her, but stayed still. His Beta approached with a sway in her hips, hiking her skirt up as she straddled him.

"I hope you slept well." Marcy winked at him and brushed her lips against his, her voice still light and cheerful, just in case Derek was listening, "It's really a shame you don't have a proper bed."

The man smirked as she rolled her hips against him, her pelvis catching his cock as she continued, "it must be rather frustrating, considering how much time you spend in it."

"You…" Peter grinned, grabbing her hips as he heard his nephew's Camaro drive out of the lot, "are a hell've an actress, and an awful tease, Marcella."

"I get that a lot." The woman practically bounced off his lap. She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and giggled at his annoyed expression, "Clay's waiting for me in the parking lot."

"Is that why you reek of cheap cologne?" He spat, eyes flashing red as she continued to snicker. "What?"

"He's my driver."

"You mean _nanny_."

"Whatever. There's no use getting jealous of a sixty seven year old man, Peter. Much less the sixty seven year old man I've known since I was in diapers." She smiled at him, less cocky and flirtatious and more genuine, "and I really shouldn't keep him waiting. I'll see you tonight?"

With a nod from Peter, she went on her way.

After they stopped to get her books from the green house, Clay and Marcy stopped for lunch at a greasy little diner on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. They spoke long into the afternoon, drinking poorly made coffee and eating more than their share of pie. For the most part, conversation was light and agreeable, well, until Marcy mentioned that Samuel Dreg had called her.

Clay paused, fork inches away from his mouth and the young woman watched with raised eyebrows as her caretaker's weathered but handsome face turned a brilliant shade of red. The likes of which she had not seen in some time.

"He did _not_."

"Yep."

The man dropped the fork to his plate with a clatter as she casually raised her mug of coffee to her lips. Annoyed with her brush off, he snapped, "Well, what'd the son of a bitch want?"

"Just checking in."

"Just checking in _my ass_," Clay growled, reaching over to take her hand. "He didn't say anything to upset you did he?"

_Seeing if you needed anything_ Echoed in her head, but Marcy shook her head and refused meet his eyes, "Nope. Wanted to come see my after his tour wraps up."

The man grit his teeth. Grinding them a moment, he asked her what she had said to that. Another shrug, but Marcy answered honestly, "I told him I didn't see the harm in it. I'm kind of…seeing someone anyway, and even if we're not together then, I think he'll have my back."

A glimmer of surprise crossed over Clay's features, but quickly grew into a grin, "Yeah? I'm glad to hear that, Mars. What's his name?"

"No."

"No? What'd you mean _no_?"

Her blue eyes narrowed at him, more amused than genuinely irritated, as she explained, "I'm not telling you his name, you'll just start digging around and show up at his work-"

"That happened one time-" Clay interrupted with a groan.

"Making threats about statutory rape-"

"He was your guidance counselor, he's shouldn't have been-"

"And yelling obscenities-" Marcy went on, smile sharpening at the man's fluster.

"Whipping his dick out in the first place-"

"And I don't want to repeat that again." She finished as Clay muttered something about responsibilities and how men were pigs. The woman raised a finger and corrected offhandedly, "Dogs."

Clay rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Yeah, yeah, we're all animals. You sure you don't want me to take a crack at Dreg for you? Maybe with a baseball bat."

"I'm sure. I can handle it," Marcy replied, her eyes drifting to the window.

The pair were quiet a while as they finished their coffee. Outside, the sun was slowly giving way to evening. Clay dropped her off and the two made promises to get together again, soon, but no exact date was set.

Peter lifted his head at the sound of the lock turning. He smirked, listening to her casual humming just outside the door and cocked his ankle over his knee. The door opened and Marcy stepped inside, dropping her books on the nearby table as she kicked it shut. When she flicked the light on, her whole body jerked at the sight of him on her couch.

"Marcella." A smile crossed his face at the stutter of her heart, "So good to see you again."

"Jesus Christ, Pete," The woman huffed. "Can you stop lurking around in the dark? Seriously."

Her Alpha stood, fixed his jacket and crossed over to her. He took her face in his rough hands, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks in a manner that was almost reverent as he pressed his brow to hers. Peter grinned, his burns pulling gruesomely, but Marcy hardly noticed as he spoke, "Are you ready to get Myers?"

"I thought you wanted Unger first?"

"An opportunity has presented itself," He brushed her dark hair from her face, "Are you coming or not?"

She smiled wickedly, "Let me get changed."

**A/N: one away from twenty and new Teen Wolf tonight. Fuck yeah.**


	20. A Difficult State

The pace was slow, almost painfully so as he dragged her hips up to meet his own. A crooked, lazy smile hung on Peter's lips, enjoying the way his Beta shuddered underneath him, eager for more force than he was willing to give. His claws dug into her skin. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bedside lamp, but he could see just fine. He grinned at the creamy flesh of her back as he fucked her from behind.

Her face buried in the mattress, she gave a guttural moan of his name. "Pete…"

The man ignored her, choosing instead to run his hands over the smooth skin along the column of her spine. Marcy bit her lip, finding it hard to breathe under his weight and in the humid, sex filled air. The woman dug her claws into the sheets as his palm, rough and warm, trailed up to the back of her neck. He took his Beta by the hair, wrapping the long, silky strands around his fist and yanking it back; the sharp twist snapping her head back and making her clench around his cock in a way that made his eyes flutter. A shudder of pain coursed through the young brunette before his rough hands slid back to her hips, not pausing in his mellow thrusts as she bucked, needy against him.

Sex with Peter was hard to describe. His touches were erratic, alternating between loving caresses and violent gropes, depending on his mood. A constant clash of teeth and tongue. He had no patience for any type of steady pace, easily alternating between hard, rough thrusts and deep, slow grinds that made her breath hitch. It was good, better than good, amazing actually, but it was hard to gauge. Her eyes closed as he slid into her, impaling her on his cock with an ease that made her head loll forward as she arched her back.

Peter smirked and looked down at the juncture between her legs, enjoying the flash of blood on his cock and the sight of her gripping him like a vice. Her hymen repaired itself after each thrust, earning another spot of blood that lingered in the sex filled air under his nose and made his mouth water. In the back of his mind, he was able to recognize how depraved it was that he got off on that, but didn't really have it in him to care. She rose, bracing herself with her hands and tried to gain some stability- tried to force him to fuck her like she wanted, but forcing anything from Peter was like trying to draw blood from a stone.

Absently, he slipped a hand under her. Peter caught her nipple ring between his index and middle fingers as he continued to pump lazily into her with all the patience he could muster. Giving the metal stud a tug, he grinned at her whine, "Tell me what you need."

Marcy's entire body tensed at the word. Peter barely noticed as he leaned down, nuzzling and scenting her shoulder. When her breathe caught and her arms began to shake, he nipped at her neck. Her pulse jumped under his teeth, but he didn't relent as he moved up to her ear, "Hm? Tell me what you need, Marcella…"

"Not you…"

He blinked at her whisper, but before he could reply her elbow snapped back, hitting him in the chest hard enough to force the air from his lungs. Peter's hips pulled back, leaving her empty as she kicked at him, this time catching his thigh and knocking him off the bed.

The Alpha stumbled, mostly out surprise as his Beta bared her fangs at him. Her legs were pulled tightly up to her chest, flashing him the soaked skin of her inner thighs and the pink flesh between her legs as her eyes sparked to a bright yellow. Under the haze of sex and rage, Peter caught the scent of tears and he carefully grasped her by the ankle.

Marcy kicked at him again, this time landing a blow to his side that made him wince. "Get off," she growled, swiping at him with sharp claws. "Get off of me!"

With both ankles clasped in one fist, he pinned them down. She shoved at him, yelling and shrieking for him to leave as he all but fell onto the mattress behind her. The Alpha shoved her hand aside as it came up to scratch at him and pulled her firmly to his chest.

"Let go!" The woman squirmed, trying to get away as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

"It's okay…" He scented her absently, hoping to bring her back to reality with pheromones and soft touches as her nails buried in the skin of his collarbone.

"I said get off me!" Marcy shrieked. She tried to ignore the hard press of his cock against her ass as he licked and bit at her bare shoulder. With a frustrated sob, she raked her claws down his arm in a futile attempt to get away from him.

Rocking her from side to side, he sighed into her dark hair, "What's wrong? Hm?" Peter nuzzled against her cheek with his own, "What's got you so spooked, huh?"

The tears that had been pricking at her eyes fell over her lashes. Bitterly, she spat at him, "I don't need you."

"Sure you don't…"

"Don't mock me," The Beta murmured into her sheets, her eyes tightly closed as he ran his hand down her side, the touch surprisingly tender and his scent soothing her as a few more tears leaked from her eyes. "I don't."

Peter leaned down, nudging his nose against her shoulder as his eyes flashed an angry red. "Someone hurt you? Hm? Tell me."

"No. No one hurt me."

A soft, condescending chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed them against the nape of her neck. "Remind me to work on your lying…"

"Just get out." Her voice weak, Marcy ignored the taunting coo he made as she closed her eyes tightly.

Hovering over her ear, he stroked her side placidly; if she wanted to be difficult, so could he, his voice suddenly hardened and nails suddenly bit into her flesh as he asked, "Is that what you _need_?"

"I said get out," His Beta croaked, tucking her knees to her chest as he eased off the mattress.

With a frown, Peter did as she said. He moved into the kitchen, tuning into her broken sobs as he leaned against the fridge. The cool metal was enough to jar him, to knock him back to reality. They had done a number on Garrison Myers. Tore him apart, leaving him a broken, maimed shell, just as Peter had been forced to be. Marcy had been…enthusiastic, to say the least. They hadn't even made it back to her apartment before he took her, rutting like animals on the lacrosse field outside the school. His cock throbbed at the thought and with an annoyed huff, Peter reached down and gripped himself at the base. A wince crossed his features. He kicked off from the fridge, determined to get what he wanted from his Beta.

The sight of her made him pause. Marcy was curled up on the wet spot of the mattress, her blue eyes open and no longer crying, but rather painfully blank. Her Alpha eased down in front of her, barely an inch away. He met her stare head on, a frown drawing over his lips. Peter kept quiet. He knew what it was like to be trapped inside your own head, had learned from experience that physical pain was easier to manage than mental and he felt like a failure for being unable to ease it for her. He moved forward, brushing his brow against hers.

For a few minutes, they were still. His hand curved over her arm, claw coming out to prick at her skin, but not to cut. Marcy's eyes fluttered at the sensation. Peter watched her come back to herself, the dull flash of confusion before she rolled on to her back. The man sat up, his gaze hard as he peered down at her. "Do you have a list of your own, Marcy?"

The woman started, bloodshot eyes wide as she shook her head, "no. No, of course not."

"Who hurt you?" Peter leaned down to caress her lips with his own, speaking in a docile tone underlined with rage, "tell me. Tell me who did it…"

"Nobody did anything," Marcy leaned up, catching his mouth with a tender kiss as she touched the burned side of his face. Marking him with her scent, she sighed before she pulled him closer, "I'm sorry for being such a spaz…"

Peter frowned, but let her crawl on top of him. A smile stretched across her full lips as she eased down onto him, his thick shaft parting her soft flesh. Marcy shuddered, her face twisting into a lustful grimace at his breathy chuckle. Her hands found his shoulders to steady herself, thumbs sweeping over his jutting collarbones as she spoke, voice heavy with want, "I feel like I should apologize for leaving you in such a state."

A brow arched, but the man stayed silent as she began to roll her hips, each easy motion sweeping from hilt to tip. The tight heat made his hips snap violently to meet her and his eyes red as a demanding growl rose in his throat. Marcy grasped him by the hair, forcing his head back as she began to lay sharp, painful bites along his neck and burned shoulders. Claws raked down her back, leaving angry welts in their wake.

The Beta gasped, toes curling as Peter grabbed her by the waist, forcing her to drop down roughly, his hard cock sending a shock of masochistic pleasure through her as he tore through her soft folds. They began to buck and arch in sync, each downward pull making her whimper when clit grind against his navel. Marcy buried her face in his thick neck, enjoying his control and strength. It made her lightheaded, knowing he could have her anyway he wanted, knowing he could take whatever he needed and she'd be unable to stop him…a gasp slipped from her lips and Peter was quick to take the bottom one between his teeth.

He suckled it gently, the action almost loving and in complete contrast to his barbaric thrusting and violent claws. It made her clench and shudder around him, her short lean legs tightening around his waist as she tried to pick up his pace. Her Alpha allowed it, laying back to watch as she took what she needed from him.

The light was dim, but Peter could see every flicker of ravished exhaustion on her radiant features as she came apart on top of him. He pushed her dark hair from her shoulder and sat up to kiss her. The Beta moaned into his mouth, her fingers finding his jaw and stroking it gently as she continued to circle her hips. Half lidded blue eyes peered into his own as he pulled back. The man pressed his brow against her own, gaze calm and voice promising as he told her, "If I ever get my hands on him, I'll rip him apart."

Marcy could only shudder in response.

**A/N: This is my favorite chapter so far. Tell me what you think.**


	21. Scott, Stiles and Derek

"I'm so fucking tired, I think I'm going to die."

"Then go to sleep."

"I can't go to sleep. Ever since you said Kate Argent is back in town I've been having _your_ fucking nightmares," Marcy turned to shoot her Alpha a glare, "thanks for that, by the way."

The man said nothing, just continued to absently type something into her laptop. In truth, it was a bit unsettling that she was sharing his dreams. While they did have a kind of telepathic bond, it shouldn't have run _that_ deep. But all things considered, that little annoyance was far low on his list of priorities. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room were that of clacking keys and the odd scream from the television(where _Creepshow 2_ was playing).

The Beta frowned at him, unsure of what it was he was doing, but stayed where she was, sprawled out on the suede black couch. Absently, she pushed out her claws and began to file them into sharp points. "So… how's your nephew?"

"Fine."

"And here I thought you said that bullet really did a number on him."

Peter didn't look up from the screen. "It worked itself out."

"I see that infamous Alpha concern is really starting to interfere with your-"

"Shouldn't you be doing something?" he interrupted, not really wanting to hear her complain about his handling of Derek _again_. Apparently Marcy had been rather upset about his casual dismissal of his nephew's ailment (more so than the actual ailment itself). He glanced over at the couch, where only her toes could be seen hanging off the arm rest and frowned. "Anything at all?"

Marcy sighed with annoyance. "No. I'm still waiting for my sister to get back to me."

"Hm." Peter wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of his Beta talking to anyone outside the pack (or rather, anyone who wasn't him, but was willing to acknowledge how creepy that was and swore never to admit it out loud because he was _not_ jealous. Least of all of some little college prick named Noel), but really there was nothing he could do about it. At least her old pack, even her closest family, lived hundreds of miles away and rarely asked to see her(well, they asked to see her and she deflected their requests), so he let her keep them. His other Beta however, seemed to be rather attached to his former pack, so they would have to go.

With the claw of her index finger, she absently traced a spiral into the creamy flesh of her thigh. Peter had told her about various symbols and their meanings, but the most important one to him seemed to the spiral. She made another, watching the bloody lines heal almost instantaneously. It meant revenge, so she could see the appeal to it. The reappearance of Kate Argent had put her Alpha visibly on edge, something Marcy would've been able to pick up on even without super senses or their shared nightmares.

The Beta frowned, her finger stilling as she listened to the clack of the keys. Her head fell back on the arm rest and for a few moments, she drifted off to sleep. Peter looked up as her breathing evened out; her heart beat steadied, and smirked. He moved over to the couch, feet silent on the plush crème carpet, and plucked her cellphone off the coffee table. Eying the small emblem that hung off it (a shiny little thing that proclaimed _The Crudes_ in red lettering) with a smirk, the Alpha set it to vibrate.

Peter worked diligently in silence for almost an hour before a text came through. He opened it without a second thought. A picture had been sent. An older man, perhaps in his late forties with blonde hair and a touch of eye liner around his blue eyes, had his arms wrapped around a dark haired boy who looked barely out of his teens. Both bore striking resemblance to the sleeping woman and both had their tongues out and were giving the camera the devil horns gesture and a large crowd could be seen in the background.

The Alpha let out a huff of laughter as a text came through. _See what ur missing?! Can't believe u left me w/ these losers._ It read. He didn't reply to it, just set the cell phone aside and went back to work.

All at once, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, an electric pulse stemmed through his core and his eyes began to glow the color of the blood that rushed through his veins. He was over to the couch in less than a second, his hand on the young woman's shoulder. As he began to shake her, Marcy's eyes snapped open.

Her yellow gaze narrowed at him and the Alpha smirked at the growl that escaped her lips.

Cupping her chin, he told her firmly, "We have to go."

"Go where?" She asked.

"Scott's calling for me," Peter grinned, arrogant and hungry in a way that made his Beta weak in the knees. "I knew he'd come around. I expect you to follow."

"Just tell me where."

"The high school," He told her as he made his way out the door. "And I expect you to follow _close_ behind…and make sure to block all the exits for me, will you?"

The woman rolled her eyes. When she looked back toward the door, her Alpha was gone. She frowned slightly, but quickly dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a heavy wool jacket. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, the temperature dropping to just above freezing overnight. Marcy locked the door tightly behind her and began the run to the high school; relying on her memory from the night they attacked the bus driver to get her there.

It took less than five minutes, a considerable improvement from when Peter had first taken her out. She ducked carefully behind the school, out of sight from where Derek Hale was sitting on the bumper of a jeep. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. While she couldn't say she liked the young man, she didn't know him near well enough to make that kind of judgement, Marcy could honestly say she was glad he had recovered from the Monkshood bullet. From where he sat now, it was easy to tell he was annoyed, with his hunched over shoulders and a scowl etched in his handsome features.

A piercing howl came over the intercom. Her eyes flashed involuntarily at the sound, her claws slicing through her cuticles to scrape against the concrete wall. Vaguely, the woman wondered where the hell her Alpha was, but before she could so much as glance around, two boys were coming out of the school.

They were in their mid-teens, laughing and obviously proud of themselves as they shoved one another back and forth. Derek, however, was considerably less amused. They had barely made it to where he was standing before he snapped at them.

"I'm gonna kill both of you! What the hell was that?!" He pointed at them, an aggressive gesture that made the woman grin from where she stood, "What are you trying to do? Attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry, I didn't know it would be that loud," The shorter boy replied. Marcy shifted, hoping to get a better look at the other Beta but the human carried on excitedly, distracting her before she got the chance.

"Yeah it was loud," He agreed then sang, "and it was awesome!"

Without missing a beat, Derek instructed, "shut up."

"Don't be such a sourwolf," the skinny human shot back.

Scott took a step toward the car, "what'd you do with him?"

Marcy stiffened at that. With _who_? She sniffed the frigid air idly, but beyond the three males across the yard, there was nothing to be found.

Confusion laced her Alpha's nephew as he turned to the car, "What? I didn't do anything."

Peter seemed to appear out of thin air, his form hulking and feral in the moonlight as he slashed through the younger man with thick claws. Marcy felt a strangled cry rise in her throat, but she quickly silenced it. The two boys went racing into the school before Derek even fell from the Alpha's clutches and the woman felt a pang of pity as he was thrown away like trash by his own uncle. She winced as he hit the wall, only a few yards away from her.

Peter let out a howl. A shudder coursed down her spine and she watched as he began prowling around the windows looking for an entry.

Marcy frowned, a realization dawning on her as she made her way forward. Her bare feet were cold, but she could barely feel them on the frosted grass as she approached him. His wolf form was daunting, imposing and even frightening to her so soon after seeing him attack Derek, his own flesh and blood, and the Beta repressed the urge to swallow as she asked, "You're going to make him kill that boy aren't you? His friend?"

Peter only huffed in reply. He brushed past her, a full head taller than the petite brunette even on all fours. When he sensed her fear, he nuzzled against her back. Fingers brushed down his side before he went over to a rather gaudy blue Jeep.

She frowned absently and quickly went about checking for escape routes in the school. She shoved a dumpster in front of one and made her way back around to the front of the school. Arching a brow, she saw that Peter had propped the front door open and vaguely wondered what his plan was.

Marcy's gaze slipped over the desolate school grounds to where Derek lay. The young man was in a crumpled heap, face down on the white tipped grass. She approached him cautiously. In the mutilated state he was in, he was hardly a threat to her. His heart beat was non-existent; his hazel eyes dead as they stared blankly outward. Marcy stared at him a long moment before she crouched down. Her knee dug into the frozen ground beside his limp form and with careful but strong hands, the woman turned him over. Two fingers flicked over his eyes, closing them. This was more for her benefit than his, should he regain consciousness the last thing she needed was an angry Omega griping at her about why she was at a high school. With a sigh, she wiped some of the blood from his mouth.

The piercing sound of met her sensitive ears and she scowled as Peter began to peel the hood of the Jeep apart as if it was a present to be unwrapped. It was quickly followed by the sound of shattering glass and startled cries from inside the school, and with a huff, Marcy leaned down.

She pressed her ear against Derek's chest. His heart beat was erratic and dim, but he was alive.

Leaning back on her hunches, she wrinkled her nose at the feeling of her packmate's blood on her cheek. Exhaustion ate away at her bones, making them stiff and heavy as she watched Peter enter the school.

Stomach twisted in knots, Marcy let out a sigh. The boys' footsteps echoed out of the open door, frantic and scared as they raced down the hallways. For the first time since that first morning, when she woke up drenched in deer blood and with her thighs caked with cum, she felt sick. It was one thing to go after murderers, after grown men; it was another to hunt down a couple artless high schoolers. Her blue eyes fell to Derek and Marcy frowned.

If he would attack his own nephew…

As if reading her thoughts, the man twitched. The woman stepped back from him. Swallowing, she looked from his prone body to the school. With a sneer, she decided Peter could handle this himself. She didn't want any part of it.

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews I got on the last chapter...I say there's probably between five and ten chapters left of this fic.**


	22. Second Thoughts

"You disobeyed me."

Marcy didn't look up from her text book. Various horticulture papers took up most of the bed, some printed from the internet, some her own work, all centering around one very curious and deadly plant; wolfsbane. She clicked her pen and underlined a bit about its potential analgesic qualities. Adding a note in the margin_(concentrated dosage?),_ she carelessly asked, "Did I?"

The Alpha sneered at her, fangs pressing against his lips as he grabbed her by the hair. Wrenching her head back, he glared into her blue eyes. In a sickeningly sweet tone, he asked her why she left the school without his permission.

"You seemed to have everything under control," Marcy growled through clenched teeth. Yellow orbs flashed at him, a grimace of pain flickering across her face, "Let me go."

A hard smile crossed his lips. Jerking the dark strands, the Alpha forced her off her stomach and onto her knees. Pain radiated in her scalp and she glared at him with misty eyes. They were just about at level, a frighteningly blank expression in his gaze as he peered down at her like she was an insect to be examined. Peter let go of her hair to cup her cheek, a tender action that was only made sinister by the thick coarse claws digging into the soft flesh.

He pulled her face to his, nuzzling the burned side of his face against her own, enjoying the light hint of her blood on his claws as he spoke, "you're upset…"

"You were going to kill Scott's little friend, weren't you? The human boy."

"Now, Marcella, what kind of man do you think I am?" The Alpha grinned at her, "I was going to make him do it."

Something clicked in her mind and she grabbed his wrist, "you've done this before…attacked teenagers…that video store clerk-"

"Was on our list," Peter finished nonchalantly. "Scott has to get rid of his old pack, otherwise we'll never have his complete devotion."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" The woman pushed his hand away, his claws leaving deep welts along her cheek and jaw as she huffed at him, "why didn't you-"

Marcy's words were cut off when his hand snapped out to grab her throat. A strangled whine left her as he slammed her head back against the wall her bed was pressed against. Body blanketing hers, he growled, low and menacing in her ear, "I do not answer to you."

In vain, she swallowed, choking as his grip tightened and he forced more of his weight on her smaller form. A leg kicked out at him, weak and pained, but he pushed it aside. Her pulse skipped under his hand. It made his hips stutter against hers, knowing he had complete control. His gaze flickered to his hand, the pale skin hot and flushed under his hold before he met her stare. Her blue eyes remained locked on his face, hateful but not panicked. Not yet. It occurred to him that he had her life in his hands, most literally, and she could be snuffed out like the troublesome bitch she was with only a flick of his wrist. She made him weak; made him vulnerable with her affections and her humanity. Peter had really hoped she would have learnt to repress that by now.

A strained whimper left the woman's throat, the fear starting to seep into her eyes as her hands fisted the material of his shirt. His gaze dropped them, to the slender fingers as they pushed against him. Idly, he covered one with his own, but didn't let go of her throat. Marcy took what little comfort she could get and grasped his hand tightly, their fingers weaving together seamlessly despite her choked wheezes.

"You're just a Beta," The man reminded her in a low voice. With a frown that pulled at the burned corner of his mouth, he let her go, not ready to give up her soft touches or starry smiles just yet.

Ragged, painful gasps filled the air as she desperately fought to remain conscious. Her throat throbbed, but the ache was already beginning to fade as he eased off the bed. With a sneer, Marcy sat up a bit straighter against the wall. Her head lolled, gaze dark and fierce in the bedroom's dim light. The crazed look in her eyes was only accentuated by the way her thick, brown hair was mussed around her stormy features.

"I might be a Beta," The woman rasped, "but you're a dick."

"Mind your tone."

With a withering glance, she pulled her legs to her chest. Gaze burning into his blank eyes, she swallowed. "I didn't deserve that- I'm a good Beta. I've done everything you asked."

He turned his back on her. Peter frowned, looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers. It had been so easy to pin her down. To choke and threaten her like she had wronged him.

"Everything you've asked and _more_ without question," Angry tears slipped from her eyes, he could smell the salt as she went on, "I don't want to hurt innocent people, Peter. Especially not kids. Please don't ask me too."

For a moment, he stood there, just staring at the hands, wondering how he could hurt her with one and comfort her with the other so easily. Vaguely, he was aware that he could feel her anxiety in his bones, the frustration and plea in her voice. He closed his eyes, reeling from how it affected him. They weren't even touching- she shouldn't have had any power over him.

"Peter?"

Without looking back at her, the Alpha left. The woman watched him with a heavy heart. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. She had been good to him, she had killed for him and he had treated her like an insolent pet. The thought made her stomach turn- the idea that he saw her as disposable, as someone who needed to be kept in line after all this time… Marcy laid down on the bed and willed herself not to flinch as the front door slammed. For a few hours, she slept. It was a restless one, filled with daunting dreams about a boy with blood on his hands and a family burnt to ash.

When she woke, the sun was beginning to set once again. She sat up slowly, her mind wandering from how Peter had choked her to how he had sliced through his nephew carelessly. Marcy knew he had a violent streak- her Alpha had broken her fingers, even electrocuted her…but those had been lessons. An attempt to teach her something and to punish her for her mistakes. The way he had glared at her, spiteful and disgusted as he choked her had been different. More personal and distraught. Blue eyes stared blankly up at the clock on the nightstand beside her. Peter wasn't a good man- he was barely a man at all, really. Driven by instinct and revenge, he wasn't exactly a picture of mental stability, but she had always known that. The woman knew she was no better. At least not anymore. He had taken her humanity that night he had pinned her down in the courtyard and sunk his teeth into her thigh. Everything after that was a blur of wants and needs, most of which revolved around sex and violence and a need for him.

And it was a _need_. Her heart had clenched at the word, but there was really no other way to describe it. Peter was a monster, a murderer and by all rights a total diva, but he had given her a freedom like she had never experienced before, and Marcy loved him for it. It wasn't a jarring revelation for her, more a sad truth. With a sigh she sat up, swinging her short legs over the edge of her bed. Her tattoo stared back at her, the Latin words etched under her family's name mocking her.

_Radix malorum est cupiditas_, her father's motto. _The root of evils is desire_. A fitting adage for a recovering addict. She traced the words with a careful finger, not wanting to mar the words. For a few moments, Marcy repeated the motions, not realizing her claw had extended until blood dribbled from the wound. With a sigh, she wiped it away and went to get in the bath.

Peter showed up at half past eleven, his black leather jacket stained with blood and smelling of burned flesh and gasoline. He was panting, eyes wild and red as he came at her. His body vibrated with adrenaline as she took him in her arms, her hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, the motion gentle despite the way he slammed her against the wall. He pushed his brow against hers and squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in how she rubbed his shoulders and caressed his neck.

A growl escaped the Alpha's throat and she offered her own, albeit a weaker one, in reply. The sound seemed to have a soothing effect on Peter, his rigid muscles loosening and breathe evening. He slumped forward to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He scented her absently, rubbing his burned cheek against her shoulder with a low whine. His claws dug into the soft flesh of her hips, but Marcy didn't push away.

Instead, she pulled him closer, trying to rid his skin of the smothering stench of gasoline. Her fingers slipped under his jacket and she pushed it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap as his mouth found hers. The brush of his lips was barely felt, a frail action that only lasted a moment and earned a sigh from the Beta before he pulled back. His eyes, no longer red but a clear blue, bore into hers stoically, all vulnerability gone with the simple touch.

When a smug smile curled over his lips, the stretch pulling at his burns in a taunting manner, Marcy placed her finger tips over his cheek. The smirk fell as her gaze caressed his marred skin along with her fingers. Peter sighed and kissed her again, his time with a bit more force. Without a word, he stepped back from her and led her down the hall to her room with a careful hand on the small of her back. They crossed the threshold without a word, his mouth finding her neck as he pulled her back to his chest. Lingering there a moment, Peter sighed against her skin as she exposed more of it to him, sweeping her long dark hair back to grant him better access. Instead of taking it, he nudged her toward the bed.

Marcy crawled into it and he stripped out of his clothes before he followed suit. The woman settled quietly, a touch surprised as he wrapped a heavy arm around her waist. Expelling a low sigh against the back of her neck, Peter pulled her close, until she was flush against his naked body. He weaved his fingers through hers before he brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist, just over the pulse.

The two laid in silence a while before finally drifting off to sleep.


	23. Bringing in Derek

"Can we trust her?"

"Trust her? Derek, please, you think I would surround myself with the incompetent? Marcella's been nothing short of angel these past few months," Peter assured him with a roll of his blue eyes and yet _another_ cocky smirk. His body had healed itself, the once burned skin now smooth and clear, and frankly it made Derek kind of wanted to punch him in the face… admittedly that had more to do with his smug tone than his sudden recovery.

His nephew didn't pause as they continued up the apartment stairway. It was narrow, forcing their shoulders to brush together as he spoke through gritted teeth, "I take it she's not a real massage therapist either."

"While she certainly has gifted hands, no she is not." With a hint of amusement, Peter told him, "She's a botanist."

Derek mouthed the word skeptically, but said nothing. On the third floor, they reached her door. Derek watched with an arched brow as the older man pulled out a key and opened it with a casual air that let his nephew know just how close the Alpha and Beta had become. He obeyed when Peter gestured for him to enter, his hazel eyes scanning the apartment critically. It was well decorated and clean, smelling faintly of chemical air fresheners, bleach and an undercurrent of sex. He wrinkled his nose at it.

The woman in question appeared in the doorway of the living room. She was hardly an imposing figure, much less one who looked capable of murder in her soft pink day dress and yellow cardigan. At the sight of Derek, she spritzed a hit of Febreeze in his direction. He sneered in response, annoyed with her amused expression and lax posture. She could at least have the decency to look sorry, for Laura and for all the trouble she had helped cause.

"Well, about time you got off your lazy ass and started helping us," Marcy told him with a wry smile.

"You mean helping you kill people?" He snapped as Peter stripped out of his leather trench coat.

Her eyes stayed sharp, as did her tone, "I do…but I suppose you've been too busy making nice with the local high school students to avenge your dead family."

"What would you know-"

"Children," Peter stepped out from behind his nephew, a taunting smirk on his lips, "play nice."

Derek continued to frown, rolling his eyes back to the woman in front of him. The expression on her face was nothing short of stunned, her blue eyes wide and full lips parted as a light flush crossed her pale cheeks. Her gaze didn't leave Peter as she stepped forward, her attention completely enrapt in the man. The bottle of Febreeze fell from her grasp.

It was an odd thing to see, the shine in her eyes as she took his uncle's face in her not quite steady hands. A smile curled around the man's lips, genuine and surprisingly warm as he peered down at the tiny brunette. She beamed in response, gently running her finger tips over the plains of his face in a soothing, intimate manner that made the Alpha sigh. At once, Derek was struck by two thoughts; one, that she wasn't so much pleased _by_ Peter's repaired features so much that she was happy _for_ him. It wouldn't have mattered one way or another if the burns stayed or healed, not if she looked at him like that on a regular basis. Judging by how easily his uncle had let her slip into his space, how undeterred he was by her wide smile and the way she scented him with an absent caress, Derek supposed she did. The second, was that he was quite possibly looking at two people who were in love. Whether they themselves knew it or not.

The thought made the younger man's stomach turn. That his uncle could be brutally murdering people whilst being _happy, _that he had an opportunity to have a normal life and turned it down for the chance to rip people to pieces. For the chance to be an animal.

"Well," Marcy pulled away from him, a wicked smirk on her face as she hesitantly let her hand fall away from his face. "I guess you're the pretty one now, Pete."

He winked at her and placed a hand on her lower back. The man turned her carefully to face the younger male, "Marcella. This is my nephew, Derek."

The brunette rolled her eyes. When Peter gave her a light nudge in the younger man's direction, she relented and offered her hand. Derek didn't take it. He just frowned. Marcy huffed and crossed her arms in response.

Peter rolled his eyes, "Children…"

"It's fine," the woman waved a hand. "_The enemy of my enemy_ and such."

Derek gave a sharp nod of agreement. He might've hated her, but he was willing to put that aside for now. At least until the Argent problem was dealt with. He glanced at his uncle, noting the fondness in the man's eyes as his hand slipped up to the woman's shoulder. Of course, once the Argent problem was dealt with, there was another to be sorted out.

They discussed the quickest route to get Scott in his pack- threats, bribes, even the potential idea of biting his little girlfriend. Marcy seemed quite in favor of this, interested in having a hunter in their pocket. Derek quickly vetoed the idea. The Argents were already gunning for them, biting Allison would be declaring war.

Peter leaned back in his seat, his legs splayed widely as he tapped his chin. "What about the mother?"

"What about her?" the woman asked with a finely arched brow.

"Well," Peter idly fiddled with a strand of her dark hair, twirling it around his index finger before letting it fall purposely into neckline of her dress, into the swell of her breasts. "If I had to imagine, the quickest way to get him to join the pack would be if his mother was a member."

Derek frowned, but had to admit the man had a point. Marcy seemed to consider this as well, and nodded reluctantly, "Who's going after her?"

"Why, I am, of course," The Alpha smiled at her, all teeth and ego. He moved to stroke the side of her neck, he explained, "I've always had a knack for charming beautiful women into doing my bidding, wouldn't you agree, Derek?"

When he turned to look at his nephew, the woman did as well. Derek shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, his eyes inadvertently flicking over Marcy's form. She was beautiful, all soft lines and feminine curves- but she reminded him of Kate. The joy she took from hurting people, the seductive smile…they all echoed of the woman who had bewitched him when he was young. When Peter smirked maliciously at him, he looked away. Peter couldn't have possibly known…

Derek stood and began to pace. "We should try one more time. Just to be sure."

"I agree," Marcy glanced at Peter, a touch puzzled by the man's sudden affections and teasing as he trailed his fingers down her arm, claws carefully tucked away. "Wait 'til he's vulnerable, alone-"

"We don't want to scare him off," The younger man interrupted.

She gave a curt nod in response, "I just meant he might be easier to persuade when he's away from his little friend, when he's not on his guard. What's that stupid sport he's always talking about?"

"Lacrosse."

"Get him when he's in the shower."

"Is sex all you think about?" The Alpha asked, a devilish smirk on his lips as she huffed at him.

Slapping his hand from her leg, Marcy went on, "The most defenseless you can feel is when you're naked and alone."

Derek caught the flicker of red in his uncle's gaze, as well as the sudden stiffening of his posture, but didn't mention it. Just nodded. "Good idea."

"What time's practice?"

"Doesn't matter," Peter breezed, "you're not going."

Blue eyes whipped to his face, "Excuse me?"

"You're not going," He repeated casually. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Derek begin to shift uncomfortably. "We don't want to scare him off."

"I'm scary? _I'm _scary? Mr. _My Face Looks Like_- okay, I guess I can't use that one anymore, but you get my meaning."

"Trust me when I say there is nothing more intimidating to a teenage boy than a beautiful woman," Once again his stare shifted to his nephew, "isn't that right, Derek?"

The younger man clenched his jaw and looked away. "They have practice tomorrow after school. I heard him talking to Stiles about it."

"Tomorrow it is then."

Catching the dismissal, Derek left. Marcy followed him and he heard the sound of a lock clicked into place as he made his way the stairs.

"So…" Peter spun her around, pressing her smaller frame to the door before he dropped his mouth to hers. The action was slow and warm with just a hint of tongue that made her moan against his lips. A shudder coursed through him as her hand rose to cup his healed cheek, the skin still sensitive as she ran her nails over his stubble.

With a giggle and eager hands, Marcy began to unbutton his shirt, "So... are you scar free everywhere or just the visible places?"

The man only smirked in reply. For once it wasn't followed by a pained grimace, no ache under his skin. He nosed at her hair, enjoying her soft, pleased scent as she explored the muscled plains of his chest. The woman let out an approving hum as she eased the material from his shoulders. Her hands followed, finger tips dragging over his shoulders, smoothing across his collarbones in a loving manner before falling down his back.

"I guess not…" The brunette giggled, nudging their heads together before nipping at his throat with fanged teeth.

There was no blood, not this time. There would be plenty of time to mark up that pretty new skin later. Instead, she lapped at his neck in long sweeping strokes, enjoying the hint of friction from his stubble and the faint taste of arousal and sweat on her tongue. Her fingers ghosted over his stomach, barely a touch but still able to pick up the steady beat of his heart against his ribs, up to his cheek once more. Marcy let her thumb glide over the fresh skin before she buried her hand in his thick dark hair.

Peter peered down at her with half-lidded, hungry eyes, "Enjoying yourself?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," The woman smiled brightly at him. When his hands smoothed over her waist down to her ass, she was hardly surprised when he snapped her toward him. She let out a giggle as her pelvis ground against him, his cock hard and straining against his jeans. Her other hand joined its twin in his hair, giving it a firm tug and knocking their lips together in a clumsy, playful manner.

He chuckled against her mouth, giving her ass a squeeze. "Good."

"Good." Marcy repeated, beaming as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Now, to the bedroom."

"Didn't we have this conversation last night?" Peter asked lips brushing against hers as he carried her toward the bed.

"You really want to bring that up right now?" She asked, eyebrow arching as she frowned at him, "when you tried to choke the life out of me?"

The man rolled his eyes and laid her down on the bed with care. His hands found the hem of her cardigan and he quickly pulled it over her head. A grin sprang onto his features at her mussed dark hair and shining blue eyes, but he didn't comment on them, "I think you and I remember it rather differently."

"Probably because I'm remembering it through a concussion, and you have a hard on." Marcy lifted her hips as his hands slipped under her dress's skirt.

His hands were rough but warm on her skin, electing a pleased sigh from her lips as he kneaded the flesh of her inner thighs. Peter swept his gaze over her slender form, watching her arch back in his touch with a lazy smile on his lips. Pressing them against her knee, he murmured, "Forgive me?"

"Well…" The woman grinned as he pulled off her underwear, tossing them casually over his shoulder, "Let's just say I'll think about it."

With a wicked grin, he winked at her, "Well, I've always been particularly good with persuasion, wouldn't you say?"


	24. Goodbye, Jenny

"I don't like this."

"Of course you don't, your boyfriend's going out with another woman."

"First off," Marcy raised a gloved finger to the Omega, a frown on her lips as she pointed in his direction, "get away from that, it's poisonous."

Derek stepped back from the brightly colored flower, casting its blue petals and long wiry stem a dubious look as she went on, her voice slightly muffled by the surgical mask she wore.

"Secondly, he is not my boyfriend, don't call him that."

The man scoffed and began to move around the greenhouse listlessly. The air was humid, making him sweat and his hair stick to his forehead, but he refused to take of his leather jacket. He had gotten it in his head that since Marcy was able to wear a thick lab coat without complaining, taking off the jacket would be showing weakness. He glanced at her, watching as she skillfully pruned away a few flowers on a large Wolfsbane plant. Derek was taking special care to stay away from it, but he had to admit he was curious as her gloved fingers pulled the seeds from their pods, placing them with care into a Petri dish.

"Why do you even have that?" He asked, moving around the table. His eyes flickered over to the other plant, the one she had warned him away from, "and _that_."

"I'm curious…" Marcy shrugged, tightly closing the petri dish. She reached over and grabbed a box of latex gloves, the same make as the one she wore but in a larger size. Usually only Noel would get any use from them, but he had been out of the greenhouse for the past week or so with some kind of stomach flu. The woman tossed it to him, "mind making yourself useful? Or would you rather just gawk like a kid on a fieldtrip?"

The box hit him in the chest and fell to the steel table with a clatter. "I think I'll pass."

The brunette rolled her eyes, "I won't make you touch anything dangerous. I just don't like taking notes or labelling with contaminated gloves. You can start with this."

She pushed the petri dish toward him. He eyed it with a tense frown, "How do I know you're not trying to poison me?"

"Why would I try to poison my own pack?" She arched a brow, a hint of annoyed disbelief on her soft features, "besides, if I had wanted to do that, I could've let you play with the Larkspur."

"Larkspur," The younger Beta repeated with a hint of stoic annoyance.

"The blue one. It's a close cousin of Wolfsbane, you know. Now, lose the jacket, Danny Zuko, we got work to do."

Scowling, Derek shrugged off his leather jacket and let it fall to the floor. When she frowned, he smiled sarcastically.

"No, really," She pointed at it, "that's not proper lab protocol, pick it up. Besides, pretty much everything in here can irritate the skin or worse. You don't want particles falling in there if you can help it."

With a roll of his hazel eyes, Derek picked it up and moved to hang it up beside where hers was placed. The leather looked considerably more menacing compared to her bright pink plaid princess coat. Staring at it, he asked, "Did he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

A faint snipping sound could be heard and when Derek turned back around he found her carefully cutting away the blue Larkspur away from their willowy stem. Her delicate features were content, relaxed despite the warmth and the close proximity to the deadly plant.

"About Jackson," Derek clarified.

He watched the warmth drain from her eyes, her gaze steel itself as she nodded, "Yes. He did."

"What do you think?"

"What is there to think about?" When her blue eyes met his, a shudder coursed down his spine at the cold ferocity he saw in them. "He's the Alpha."

Derek frowned, "that doesn't mean he's right."

The woman didn't say anything to that just looked back at the plant. She picked up one of the prune flowers and stared at it a moment before speaking, "You know, when you prune plants, it's not to hurt it. It's to help it grow…"

Derek frowned at her.

"It's to keep the weak, diseased… _damaged_ part of the crop from spreading," Her gaze rested on his, a bright shining yellow in the bright lights.

"People aren't plants."

"No…but I'd say a pack has some similar qualities to one. Wouldn't you?"

The younger man glared at her. Without a word, he reached back and grabbed his coat, throwing it over his shoulders as he stormed out of the greenhouse. Marcy rolled her eyes at his dramatics. This was exactly what she had been talking about- the weak needed to be cut from the pack. Too bad the weak in this case was her Alpha's only living relative and while Marcy did feel a hint of pity for Derek, if push came to shove and he ended up putting her or Peter in danger, well…accidents did happen after all.

She was still pondering the matter when her cellphone rang. Hitting the speaker button, she set it on the table and began to prune the Larkspur. "Hello?"

"Marcy? It's Jennifer."

Of course it was. "Alright."

"I was just wondering when Peter was going to come collect his belongings…"

There was something in her tone Marcy didn't like, but she couldn't place exactly what it was. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that Peter would've been leaving with the McCall woman, most likely just pulling out of the driveway if Marcy had to guess. Eyes flashing, she spoke before she could stop herself, "I'll come."

"Will you?" Jennifer asked skeptically.

"Be ready for me." She hit the end button and pulled her gloves off, ignoring the slight itch the talcum powder left behind. She snatched the phone off the table, jammed it into her back pocket and stormed out the door- her jacket forgotten in the rush.

The run was frustratingly short- just long enough to get her blood pumping and her heart racing before she came across the home. It was deserted, but that was unsurprising considering the time of night. Jennifer was leaning against a dark grey Honda. The nurse looked up, but didn't move as Marcy approached her.

"Took you long enough."

The werewolf shrugged, "I came as fast as I could."

"Hm. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he sent you."

Marcy's claws pricked her palms, the smell of her own blood putting her on edge as she arched a brow at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Jennifer smiled; all malice and no mirth as she popped the Honda's trunk, "you always were his favorite little pet."

The brunette growled, but didn't disagree.

As she shoved cardboard box in the Beta's arms, Jennifer went on, "his eager little bitch."

Marcy let the box fall from her hands, ignoring the flash of fear on the woman's face and the clatter of Peter's belongings on the concrete as she reached out. Jennifer let out a strangled cry, but it didn't have the chance to swell into a scream as a hand wrapped around the back of her neck and slammed her head down. Her skull cracked against the metal of the trunk, sending a splatter of blood from her nose and mouth as her front teeth were knocked loose. Jennifer's hand shot out to brace herself, but it was quickly kicked out from under her, sending her sprawling forward a second time.

Marcy held her by the hair, her face frighteningly blank as she bashed the woman's head into the bottom of the trunk, ignoring the crack of her nose as it broken and the pained cry that finally slipped from Jennifer's lips. The werewolf's ear pricked up at the sound and a sadist smile crossed her lips.

"Jenny, please," Marcy taunted, the pained whimper from the woman arousing her more than she cared to admit as she pulled the taller brunette flush against her. Jennifer's face was a mess of saliva, blood and tears, but she didn't pay that any mind, "there was no need to resort to name calling."

"You-you-"

Marcy rolled her eyes at the nurse's blubbering. Not wanting to deal with it any longer, the Beta did the merciful thing and snapped the woman's neck. The body crumpled into a heap, falling into the trunk with only a passive shove. Marcy pursed her lips, displeased with her own lack of control as she began to route through the woman's pockets.

No need for the car to go to waste. Spinning the key ring around her finger, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. One hand closed the trunk, encasing the woman's corpse inside as the other scrolled through her contacts. Marcy hit the call button, hoping in vain that she wasn't interrupting anything…or that there was anything to be interrupted.

"Hello?" Peter's voice was laced with amusement, something that caught the woman off guard.

Marcy arched a brow as she told him point blank, "I killed Jennifer."

"Did you?" There was no flux in his tone and that put his Beta on edge. "Where are you now?"

"I know I shouldn't have called, but I kind of panicked," Marcy told him, voice rushed and breathless despite how she was idly looking down at the blood that was beginning to dry under her nails. Wrinkling her nose, she absently began to lick it off as she spoke, "I can't drive, what am I supposed to do with her?"

"You really need to get your license." Her Alpha replied with a laugh. "Tell me where you are. Scott effectively ended our plan, so I'm free to clean up your messes."

"I'm at the home."

"I'll see you in a bit."

Marcy clicked the phone shut and sighed. At least she knew he wasn't getting it on with that McCall woman…Her eyes drifted to the box that lay on the cold concrete and she crouched down to collect his belongings that had scattered. There wasn't much, just some clothes and a few books. She was vaguely surprised there was no wedding ring in the box, no mementos of the family he was fighting so hard to avenge.

She pursed her lips and closed the box. It was none of her business…

**A/N: Two more chapters until the finale, then the sequel. Until then, could I please get up to 75 reviews before this story ends? It's kind of my goal. ^.^**


	25. Parting Words

Peter sighed at the sight of his Beta sitting atop the trunk of his nurse's car. She arched a brow as he approached her, his hands finding her hips as he chided, "Why do I feel as if this has something to do with the fact that I took Melissa out tonight?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You really need to work on this jealous streak of yours, Marcella." He plucked the keys from her grasp and pointed a stern finger at her, "it's an unladylike and unattractive quality."

"What did you need her for anymore?" Blue eyes rolled at him, "you got better."

He grinned wolfishly, "I certainly do."

The woman blushed faintly and slipped off the trunk. Resting her hand on it, she asked what they should do with the body.

"Leave it for now." Peter steered her toward the passenger side as he spoke, "she'll keep until we get rid of Kate."

When he opened the door for her, she slipped inside. The car was clean, but smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and perfume. Curious fingers popped open the glove box, only to find registration papers and a box of Kleenex. Marcy was vaguely pleased- it didn't appear as though Jennifer had any family or close friends to speak of, no one to come looking for her body. As

Peter slid into the driver's seat, she looked at him. He was perfectly lax, shoulders and features free of any tension, and frankly, it put her on edge. The phrase _the calm before the storm_ came to mind and she hoped vaguely that he was genuinely indifferent to his nurse's murder.

He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot without a word. His hand came to rest on her thigh, his thumb absently stroking over the nylon as he watched the road.

"After we deal with Argent, we'll have to work on your control."

Marcy stayed quiet and turned to look out the window. "I have to get back to the lab."

"Oh?" His touch trailed along her inseam, earning a shudder from her before he trailed his blunt, human nails down to her knee, "why's that?"

"I left my jacket there. Plus I have to lock up."

"If that's all, I'm sure you wouldn't mind some company?"

The woman glanced at him, a shrewd frown on her lips as she asked, "you're not thinking of trying to poison me, now are you, Pete?"

"And lose my most proficient Beta?"

"If I'm your best, you're in trouble."

Peter smiled at her, all teeth and spite as his claws came out to prick, "Such insecurity isn't like you…you're not having second thoughts about me, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"Good," His nails dug into her knee, sending a gush of blood down her leg as he leaned over to growl in her ear, "because I am not someone you want to deceive, Marcella. I can be quite jealous myself, you know."

"I can feel that," She grit out. Teeth clenched tightly, she took him by the wrist as he pulled to a stop outside her campus. "You gonna let me go, or what?"

The man retracted his claws and tipped her chin to face him. His blue eyes flickered over her soft, frightened features and he inhaled deeply, able to taste it in the air as she dropped her gaze. "Marcella…you're not keeping things from me, are you?"

"Like what?"

Peter pressed a light kiss to her lips, nuzzling their noses together a moment before he answered honestly, "I don't know."

One of her hands came up to cup his cheek. "After we kill Kate…I don't want to do this anymore, okay?"

His grip tightened just a touch as she leaned her brow against his, "Do what?"

"Hurt people."

"But you're so good at it," The Alpha praised, a coo against her lips as he grinned, "Just look what you did to Jennifer, and I didn't even have to ask for that."

Marcy cringed, earning a soft noise of sympathy from the man. Peter took her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it gently, the action drawing a gasp from her. His tongue slipped past her lips to seek her own. Deeply and sensually, he explored her mouth while his fingers traced the curve of her cheek with his claws. A smirk tugged at his lips as she shuddered, and Peter pulled away. The woman wasted no time pressing forward, her hand grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him back into the kiss.

"Later," He promised, a lazy smile on his swollen lips. Her arousal hung in the air, making him hard in his jeans as he stared down at her flushed features. In the back of his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep her this way much longer. Peter knew Marcy wasn't stupid, she knew he was using her as an ends to a means, knew he was manipulating her with sex and praise, but he _did_ care for his Beta. She had kept her promises, been loyal to him without fault. Even when she had left him alone at the school she hadn't tried to stop him. His gaze swept over her features. Her cheekbones high and regal, her lips full and red from their kiss. She was a beautiful woman and although it didn't show in her face she was exhausted, he knew she was. Emotionally, mentally… Perhaps once all this ugliness was over they could take a few days to themselves. But he would have to push her away first- if she was having second thoughts, she could get herself killed. Could throw a wrench in his plans, although he was sure it would be unintentional if she did.

Peter gave a nod in the school's direction, "go get your coat."

With one last dubious look, Marcy slipped out of the car. When she returned, his hand sought hers and they went back to her apartment without a word between them for the entire drive. The moment they crossed the threshold of her door, Peter grasped her by the back of the neck. He pinned her easily to the wall, the action surprisingly gentle as his larger body blanketed her petite one. The Alpha scented the woman, enjoying the way his stubble scraped against her cheek.

"Do not think you are getting laid tonight," Marcy teased as her hand came up to cup the back of his head. Her fingers flexed and tangled in his thick dark hair and she gave it an experimental tug, "I'm nobody's second choice, Hale."

"Second choice?" He purred, sucking at her neck until the skin bruised and healed under his lips, "Marcella, please."

The woman allowed herself to be turned, even allowed him to lick and nip at her mouth as his hands trailed over her sides and stomach. She chuckled absently, catching his wrists when they went to pull her shirt over her head. "You think just 'cause you're pretty now, I'm gonna forget you went out with another woman tonight?"

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped back from her. He smoothed the soft material of her silk blouse with a delicate touch, "That was for the pack."

"Mhm."

"Marcella, do you really think I would waste my time chasing a single mother when I could have you?"

Her blue eyes stayed sharp.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly a painful sacrifice on my part, but I came home to you, didn't I?"

"_You_ got cock blocked by a teenager," She replied, poking him firmly in the chest as she sauntered away from him. The man watched her go, eyes dropping to her swaying hips as she went on, "Not exactly sexy, Hale."

Peter smirked and moved behind her, "You're right."

"I know."

"And while we're on the subject of doing things for the pack, I have a proposition for you." He push some of her dark hair away from her neck and nuzzled at the expanse of pale skin, "Well, proposition makes it sound like you have a choice. I have a job for you."

Marcy let out a contented sigh as he pulled the collar of her shirt away and placed a gentle bite at the apex of her shoulder. "Oh? And what's that?"

"I want you to get to know Derek." His tongue, hot and firm, swept up to her ear. "In a more…intimate sense, than you have been."

The woman stiffened, her pulse skipping as he continued on nonchalantly.

"I know it's a lot to ask…but I really think it's the best way to cement his loyalty to the pack." Peter placed a soft kiss just under her jaw, "since you don't want to hurt anyone, I thought maybe you might enjoy this- it's a task that you're more than qualified for, wouldn't you agree?"

"'You want me to fuck your nephew?"

"Marcella, please. There's no need to be crass."

She turned in his arms, blue eyes sparking with hurt as she looked up at him. His features were placid and calm, maybe even a touch amused and it broke her heart. Her bottom lip began to quiver as she sneered at him, "Are you kidding me?"

"Why would I joke about this?" Peter tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "If he forms an emotional attachment to you, he'll be less incline to stray."

Outraged, she pushed him away. The Alpha didn't so much as stumble as she screamed at him, "How dare you? How dare you ask me to do this?!"

"Mar-"

Peter's head snapped back as she slapped him. His claws grew out, eyes flashing but his anger dissipated when he turned back to look at her. Her eyes shone with tears, her hate and rage dampened by the quiet scent of them as her whole body shook.

"You've controlled every aspect of my life, Peter. You've turned me into a monster, you've turned me into a murderer, but I am not going to let you turn me into your whore."

"Oh, Marcella," He said, voice dripping with venom as the tears finally cascaded over her lashes, "I already have."

Her posture shifted and the sadness, the pitiful expression and heartbreak, drained from her face. Her expression hardened, turning cold as she stepped toward him. A wicked smile crossed her lips as she spoke, "What? You think I'm your whore because I've fucked you?"

As the cruel smile spread across her lips, Peter was struck with love her, for not wilting away from him. His sentiments didn't last long however, his heart clenching as she carried on spitefully.

"You think if I didn't need you I would look twice at you?" Marcy shook her head with a biting laugh. It wouldn't have hurt so much if he could just catch a hint of a lie on her, a stutter of her heart, that terribly distinct smell of deceit- but there was nothing. Not so much as a whisper of it as she peered up at him with mocking eyes, "Some broken old man? You think if you weren't my Alpha- if I wasn't loyal, I'd have anything to do with you?"

"You think if you didn't spread your legs whenever I came around I'd put up with your silly little crush?" Peter shot back, but she only smirked wider. She had caught one of his deeper fears and knew it, and she fully intended to twist the knife now that she knew she was the one holding it.

Marcy tutted at him, "Oh, touched a nerve there, did I? You think because you don't wear it anymore," Her claws caught his face, digging into the freshly healed skin as he glared down at her and she spat, "that you're any less of a cripple? That you're any more useful now that you're out of that goddamn bed, Hale? All you're good for is tearing things to pieces."

Peter wretched away from her. Blood that had dribbled from her claws slid back into the wound, healing instantly.

"And when Kate's dead, you'll be just a listless damaged man without a pack," She swallowed the lump in her throat as she finished, "Because Derek will never forgive you for killing Laura, and I don't need you anymore."

His cool blue eyes fell to her face and he arched a brow at her, "Are you done?"

"Get out."

"Gladly." Peter turned on his heel and ignored the near silent sob she gave as he slammed the door behind him.

**A/N: Hate me yet? One chapter left.**


	26. Peter

Marcy wasn't one to mope, and with an inability to get drunk in any sense of the word, she did the only sensible thing; she threw herself into her work. For two days, she didn't leave the lab, except brief trips back to her apartment to shower and glare at the flashing _zero_ on her answering machine.

"Not that I don't enjoy the company," Noel eyed her sympathetically as he passed her a cup of coffee, "But shouldn't you be…sleeping? Like a normal person does at one in the morning?"

"Shouldn't you?" The brunette shot back, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. Something was wrong with the way he smelled, different and sour. He stunk of decay, of rotting leaves and he looked like hell, all sallow skin and slow movements. It was unsettling- usually Noel was pretty sharp, but she had more important things on her mind than his case of the flu.

His brown eyes twinkled despite the bags under them, "And miss a chance to sweep you off your feet?"

Marcy rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to smirk; it was a weak, but would suffice. Her stomach ached, the thought of Peter taking care of Kate Argent by himself making her sick and a little lightheaded. Noel was openly looking her over, concern etched into his boyish features.

The woman swallowed and handed him back the coffee, "I think…I'm going to head in for the night."

He smiled at her, "Sounds like a good idea, Marce."

She returned it stiffly and slipped off her lab coat. The December air was brisk, but nothing she couldn't handle as she made her off campus. The moon hung high in the sky, but the entire area was dark and still. Most of the other students had left for Christmas break already and the strangest sense of _deja vu_ hit her as she gazed out at the empty courtyard.

Dread crept up her spine, reminding her that Peter hadn't come for her, hadn't sought her out to help him go after the Argent woman. He'd be alone- well, he'd have Derek but he didn't exactly scream _killer_, much less _competent_ to the female Beta. Pursing her lips, Marcy squared her shoulders; served him right. She refused to be his_ eager little bitch _any longer. Her stony expression faltered at that. It wasn't like she was dependent on him- hell, it wasn't as if she was lying when she said she didn't need him anymore but that didn't mean she _wanted_ to leave him. She just wanted some respect.

They'd make up. They _had_ to make up. The woman bit her tongue absently as she crossed the road. It was their routine, they fuck and fight and then they fight _while_ fucking and then everything was fine again. Somewhere in between they'd find something to rip to pieces and things would be back to normal. Even if it did mean he only thought of her as his whore.

The egotistical bastard, like he was any less of a Lech. Marcy fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the entrance door to her apartment building. She was halfway up the stairs went it hit her and with a startled cry her legs gave out from under her. A wave of pain washed over the Beta's body, flooding every nerve with fire as she began to convulse on the stairs. Her claws grew out, trying to catch something to steady herself as roar of anguish echoed through her skull. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it stopped. An emptiness radiated from her chest, a cold, hollow ache in her lungs as she fought to catch her breath. For a moment, she could only gape at the ceiling, disoriented and despondent.

Peter was dead.

Marcy wasn't sure how she knew it, or why it would be enough to physically knock her off her feet, but it did. It wasn't until she sat up that she realized there were tears on her cheeks. A shaky hand grasped the handrail and she eased herself to her feet. With her head swimming and face flushed, she slowly made her way up the stairs. If Peter _was_ dead, she knew exactly where he would be…a growl escaped her throat and her eyes flashed as she turned and ran down the stairs and out the door.

The smell hit her at the edge of the forest. Tears welled in her eyes as she approached the Hale house, the sight of blood and burnt grass making her stomach twist and knot almost as much as the hanging stench of death in the cold air. The woman steeled her nerves and carefully made her way up the rickety steps of the abandoned house.

Marcy's resolved fell as she caught sight of him. Derek looked over at her from a hole about three feet deep in the center of the room, but she wasn't looking at him. He paused his actions and gripped the shovel tightly, ready to fight if he needed to. He unsurprised but clearly not pleased with her sudden appearance, but her attention wasn't on him. The Beta moved slowly, her expression pained as she made her way toward them. The woman swallowed as she brushed past him, crouching low to look at the corpse a mere foot away.

"You burned him?" Marcy breathed, voice strained and weak as tears began to slip from her eyes, "Of all the things you could've done to him, you _burned_ him?"

"It wasn't me," Derek cleared his throat, "Stiles and Jackson-"

A hollow laugh escaped her, "Stiles." Hadn't she pleaded for his life at one time? "That stupid little…"

With an unsteady but careful hand, the woman reached out to touch him. Peter's eyes were open, wide and blue and disturbingly empty, and Marcy closed them for him. Her fingers lingered on his cheek a moment, the waxy texture familiar despite its unmoving stiffness. They trailed down to the gash along his throat and she turned to look at the younger man. With blazing yellow eyes, she asked, "Who did it?"

Red eyes answered her.

Disgusted, she looked away from him, desperately trying to steady her breathing. Of course it had been Derek, the boy responsible for it all. Peter hadn't told her it was his fault- but his dreams had. He had dreamed of a boy in love and a manipulative seductress with a taste for fire. Marcy bit back a sob. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of it. Of seeing her lose control, seeing her come apart at the seams- Derek had mocked her affections for Peter before and she couldn't bear to hear his boosting now. Jaw clenched, she asked him what he was going to do with the body.

"Bury him. Here…with the rest of them." Derek told her, gripping the shovel absently before he began to heave dirt out of the way.

She nodded, but made no move to help him dig. Marcy frowned, catching the scent of unfamiliar blood and asked whose it was.

"Kate's."

A smile, cold and cruel, wound around the woman's lips. "Good."

"You didn't even know her," The man spat, his movements jerky and rough as he continued to dig. "What do you care if she's dead? You didn't know my family. You didn't care about us. It was just another person to tear to pieces and you weren't even here." His hazel eyes blazed red in the darkness and he turned to glare at her. Accusingly, he growled, "Why weren't you here? You could've kept him in line! You could've stopped him!"

"It looks like you handled that all on your own," Marcy replied sharply.

"He was the only family I had left. I didn't want to."

The brunette said nothing, just sat down. She crossed her legs, not wanting to disrupt the corpse of the man she had loved so dearly- in her own sadistic way, of course. Her gaze drifted from Peter to Derek, or more specifically his tattoo, just barely visible between his shoulders in the dark room. The triskelion- a symbol of pack and family among werewolves.

"He killed my sister."

"I know. Laura."

Derek's eyes whipped to hers, but she wasn't looking at him. Not really. Her gaze was blank and her heart beat disturbingly steady as he growled at her, "He bragged about it?"

"He dreamt about it," The woman blinked, her pulse skipping and heart clenching as she met his glare, "he dreamed about a lot of things he didn't want me to see. You. Laura. The fire. What you were like before." His stare softened, but not much. He watched as she turned to look down at the corpse of his uncle, her eyes glazing over with tears as she spoke, "I should've been here… maybe if I had, we'd be digging your grave instead."

The younger man pursed his lips. He remembered how the woman, so weak and frail in the moonlight before him, had taken Peter's face in her hands with cautious affection and smiled at him like he had hung the moon. Without thinking, he asked, "Did you love him?"

There was no hesitance. "Yes, but I didn't _like_ him sometimes."

"Hm." Derek returned to digging the grave, speaking over his shoulder in a low tone, "he loved you too."

A hollow chuckle escaped her lips. "He didn't love me. I don't think he even liked me. I was just convenient. A whore with a crush."

"You knew he was dead without needing to be called," The man shifted some of the dirt, evening it out and flattening the bottom, "Bonds between Alphas and Betas shouldn't run that deep. Not unintentionally."

Marcy didn't reply to that. The chill hadn't left her yet, settling in her veins like ice water and making every movement heavy and dull. Vaguely, she wondered when it would pass.

"I think this is deep enough…" Derek jumped out of the hole. He nodded to his uncle's corpse and took hold of its feet, "help me move him."

The Beta stared at him a long moment before she stood. With considerably more gentle hands than the new Alpha, Marcy eased Peter's shoulders up. She blanched when his head rolled limply on his shoulders, exposing his slashed throat. Her grip tightened and her eyes flashed, but she managed to help Derek get him in the makeshift grave. The woman took special care, arranging his arms across his chest and peered down at him. She kept expecting him to wake up. It was a scratch, wasn't it? Werewolves were supposed to be strong and she had always thought Peter to be indestructible. He had to be with his recklessness.

A rough hand dropped down on her shoulder and she looked up to find Derek frowning at her from the house's main floor. He pulled her out of the grave and for a moment the two were quiet as they stared down at the shell of the man they had begrudgingly loved.

Marcy sighed and in a low voice murmured, "We should say something."

"Like what?"

The petite brunette shrugged, hugging herself tightly with shaking hands, "I don't know. I was never very good with words."

For a few seconds, Derek was quiet before he recited, "thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die. Passing through nature to eternity."

"Nicely done," Marcy nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as he picked up the shovel.

She was okay until the dirt hit him.

It didn't cover much, just a small patch of his burned stomach, but it was enough to cut into her lungs. He was dead. A scream bubbled and tore through her, her legs giving out from under her as she began to howl. A broken, tortured sound that cut through the woods and echoed in the darkness. Marcy pressed her face into the floorboards, the splinters cutting her cheeks as she wailed. Her claws dug into the wood, her body racked with sobs. Pain and rage coursed through her; Peter was _gone_. He wasn't coming back- she'd never get to apologize for calling him broken and damaged, she'd never wake up to his hands on her again or have his fangs prick into her skin. There would be no more love bites, no more teasing touches or hoarse chuckles in the dark. Her cries fell short and she struggled to catch her breath, to steady herself.

There would be no more _Peter_.

Derek paid her no attention, ignoring her sobs and wails as he finished the job he had set out to do. When he could no longer see pale skin through the dirt, he closed his eyes. Methodically, he continued to shovel, hearing only the brunette's hiccups and whimpers and his mother's voice in the back of his head, telling him how pack was the most important thing; the _only_ thing. And now he didn't have one. No link to his family, no link to his past, he was alone except for the woman at his feet.

As he pushed the last bit of dirt in with his foot, filling the hole, he looked down at her. Marcy was still struggling to even out her breathing, but her heart had calmed, the beats steady and strong. Derek grasped her by the shoulder, "come on."

"No."

"What?"

"I said no," Blue eyes glared up at him, bloodshot and hate filled as she shoved away from him. She stood with a fluid grace, "don't touch me."

The man's hazel eyes narrowed, flashing red in the dawning morning light, "I'm the Alpha now."

"Not mine." She growled at him, "You'll never be my Alpha."

"You'll die without a pack," Derek snapped back at her, "you won't survive without me."

"I'd rather be dead than be your Beta." Marcy spat at him, ignoring the tears on her cheeks and his bared fangs as she walked around him. "Peter may have been an abusive freak, but he was mine." Her eyes glowed and she turned back to look at him as she reached the threshold of the house, "and he's the only Alpha I'll ever have."

Derek swallowed as he watched her disappear into the darkness.

"_It will stop your breath how cruel I can be. But you understand, don't you? You are clever enough. I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I am your servant. When you starve I will feed you; when you are sick I will tend you. I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased. For you alone I will be weak."_

**Catherynne M. Valente, **_**Deathless**_

**A/N: I just want to thank all the readers who stuck through this fic through the whole thing. I appreciate it and all the reviews you gave me. The sequel, **_**Flawed Design**_**, should be up within 24 hours.**


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